Two Single Parents
by Phoenix.G.Fawkes
Summary: XOver with Atvs. Snape takes care of fiveyearold Connor Angel while Sirius is raising his fouryearold godson. But it won’t be easy: several people are after them, and then Connor’s mum shows up...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: If I owned any of this, Lupin would be still teaching at Hogwarts, while Sirius, Anya, Fred and Cordy would have never died. It's all Rowling's and Whedon's fault.

**Summary**: XOver with Atvs. Snape has to take care of five-year-old Connor Angel while Sirius, who's free again, is raising his four-year-old godson. But it won't be easy: several people are after them, and then Connor's mum shows up...

**Rating**: PG, just to be safe.

**Notes**: This is an AU. This means that several things are **completely different** from canon. The reasons for this will be explained in later chapters, but here are a few things that I've changed, so nobody is confused (if you don't want any spoilers, skip this part):

Darla did not die, but Angel and Cordelia did.

The dimension Sahjaan threw Connor in wasn't Quor'toth.

I've switched the timelines to my advantage. This means that, in spite of the tiny fact that Harry was born one year before Buffy, here he's just a child while the Sunnydale gang are twenty-one or so.

Well, that's pretty much it. All other questions will be answered in future chapters, but you can always send me a review or a email. And, of course, you can always send me a review to tell me if you liked the story!

**Special thanks to Joycelyn Solo and Sophia K., for beta reading this story and pointing out all the mistakes and possible ways to improve this fic. Thank you so much!

* * *

**

**Two Single Parents**

**Prologue:**

'I am afraid we have a problem'.

Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick were reunited in Dumbledore's office, sitting in chintz armchairs around his desk. When they heard the Headmaster's words, they exchanged somber and worried looks. What could it be? The term hadn't started yet, so it wasn't probable that they had a problem with any of their students, and they knew for sure there weren't any problems with their colleagues. Could it be something less mundane, perhaps? Or something more sinister?

It didn't seem likely. The Dark Lord had been defeated three years ago and all his Death Eaters had been caught – even though many of them had been released. However, these (_former?_) Death Eaters had kept a very low profile since the Dark Lord's fall. In three years, nothing had broken the Wizarding world's peace. Could things have changed?

Maybe it wasn't something so terrible, but then why had Dumbledore asked them to join him as soon as possible? What was so urgent?

'How big is this problem?' Professor McGonagall inquired.

For a second, to their shock, it seemed like Dumbledore was going to smile.

'Well, he is about one meter tall and about five years old'.

The three teachers stared at him blankly. Snape was the first to get over the shock.

'Are we talking about a _child_?'

'Not any child,' Dumbledore said 'I think you all will agree that this is a very delicate matter once you've heard Connor Angel's story…'

* * *

'Fred, we are not _abandoning_ him.' 

It was the eleventh time he told her this, but she still didn't feel reassured. Which was no wonder: after all, not even Wesley completely believed it.

'Look, Dumbledore is a trustworthy man. Giles has known him for years. And Hogwarts Castle is famous for its security. It's just what Connor needs right now: a safe place with people like him, where he'll learn to control his powers.'

Fred looked like she was about to cry.

'But he's Angel's son, and we promised we'd take care of him.'

'And we will, Winnifred. This is just temporary, you see. As soon as Connor is stable' _And we, too_, he thought but said nothing. 'We'll come back for him. And we'll raise him, as we promised to Angel and Cordy.'

Fred looked a little comforted, but not completely. Seeing this, Gunn added:

'And let's face it, Fred, we can't take care of that kiddo right now. We got Wolfram & Hart after us, and that ugly demon clan which wants to kill him. And it's not like he trusts us at all: he's escaped from the house already twice since he came back, and he's terrified of Lorne. Besides, he tried to kill us all.'

'He didn't try to kill us' Wesley corrected 'He thought we were attacking him.'

'But we were tryin' to give him a _bath_. See my point? The kid is untamable. With the super strength, and the magic thing…we can't control him.'

Fred and Wesley had to admit Gunn was quite right. Not only did Connor have the strength of an adult, a supernatural speed and extremely sharpened senses, but also he had manifested an incredibly magical potential. A potential they couldn't control.

But it was so unfair. Angel and Cordy had sacrificed themselves to protect Connor, and now they were leaving him with those strangers.

'Are we sure these people can handle Connor?'

'It's a school, Fred. A magical school', Wesley patiently explained, 'I'm sure they'll know how to deal with this.'

'I hope they do. After all Connor has gone through…'

None of them said anything, but it wasn't necessary. They all could imagine how dreadful Connor's childhood had been, raised by Daniel Holtz and that Justine woman in Pylea.

'Can we at least visit him?', Fred asked, almost pleadingly. Wesley and Gunn exchanged a somber look.

'Professor Dumbledore believes that it would be better if we didn't see Connor for a little while...'

Fred opened her mouth to protest, but Gunn cut her in:

'Baby, he's right. The kiddo don't bear seein' us at all.'

Wesley nodded. 'And we'll come back to take him back with us'.

The woman's brown eyes shone with a faint glint of hope.

'Soon?'

Gunn and Wesley exchanged another look. The former turned to face Fred, a forced smile on his face.

'Very soon, baby. Very soon'.

They remained silent for some minutes, each one of them absorbed in their own thoughts.

Wesley thought of little Connor, who had been thrown into a hell dimension by a demon, and had spent his childhood in the company of Holtz and Justine, people who hated his parents. And his mind went back to the night Holtz and Justine had kidnapped Connor (before he could stop himself, his hand raised to touch the long scar on his neck), Sahjaan had, accidentaly or on purpouse, sent them to Lorne's home dimension, and Angel and Cordy...

He shook his head. It was still too painful to think about Angel and Cordy. He glanced at his friends, whose faces were somber and their eyes clouded. It was time to go.

'Well, I'm afraid we don't have anything to do here', Wesley said dully 'Let's go home.'

_Home?_, Gunn wondered. _Which home?

* * *

_

Connor Angel sat very quietly on a large, white bed. There were many beds in this place, all exactly alike. And it smelled funny. He had asked the woman where he was. She had looked at him strangely before answering.

'This is the hospital wing, dear.' Seeing his puzzled face, she added. 'This is where the people come when they feel sick or they are injured, so I can cure them.'

Connor frowned.

'But I'm not feeling sick.'

'I know you aren't, but you'll stay here until we find a place where to put you up.'

He found this answer so reasonable that he did not ask more questions for a while. Instead, he watched the woman, who was putting little bottles on a shelf. There were bottles of all sizes and colours. Connor wondered what was inside them. Medicines, probably. Justine had explained to him that medicines made you feel better. There hadn't been many medicines in Pylea. Not in bottles, at least. People made their own mixtures, which not always worked. Luckily he never got sick, and Justine and Daniel knew how to take care of themselves, so they hadn't needed those things.

He held back a sigh. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last seen any of them (he still didn't understand how time worked in this place) and he wondered if he'd ever see them again. Or Pylea. He missed Pylea. There were demons, and you had to hunt your dinner, but he missed it anyway. It was always very bright there, with the two suns. And Daniel and Justine had been there.

Of course, Connor didn't believe what the man with sky blue eyes (Wesley was his name) had said. They were all lies. They couldn't be true. It was ridiculous.

But his words still haunted his troubled mind, especially at night. The worst things always happened at night. It was in that moment when his head was filled with _What if-s…?_ What if it was true? What if Daniel was really…?

_No. It's not possible. Not him._ He shut his eyes and shook his head, until all the bad thoughts were gone.

When he opened his eyes, he heard the sound of footsteps getting closer. He listened intently. Four people…no, three people and a half…a child, perhaps?

There was a knock on the door, and the woman hurried to open it. Someone – a man – spoke in a low whisper, which was still audible to Connor:

'How is he, Poppy?'

'Very quiet, Headmaster.' The woman answered in an even lower whisper. It didn't matter, really, because Connor's hearing was superb.

Then, a very old man with a long, silver beard entered the room. The child wondered if he'd lived long enough to meet the King Arthur from the stories Daniel had told him. A woman with a severe expression and a pointed hat followed him, plus a dark haired man (the youngest) in black robes. Lastly, a weird creature got in. It had the height of a child, but he looked as old as the severe-looking woman. And he didn't look like a demon, either.

The oldest man came closer and sat on the bed next to Connor's, his blue eyes never leaving his.

'Hello, Connor. My name is Albus Dumbledore.'

The child thought it was a funny name, but all names here were weird for him, used to Pylean names as he was.

'Nice to meet you, sir,' he replied politely, as Daniel had taught him.

'Nice to meet you too, Connor. They,' he pointed at the people with him, 'are Professor Minerva McGonagall, Professor Severus Snape and Professor Filius Flitwick.'

Connor eyed them thoughtfully.

'Why are they all called Professor, sir?'

For a moment it looked as if Albus Dumbledore was going to laugh. He composed himself, though, and patiently explained that 'Professor' wasn't their name, but the charge they held.

'Has Mr. Wyndam-Pryce told you why are you here?'

Connor nodded. Wesley had said it was a school, and that he was going to learn many things in there. He also had said that schools were places where people went to learn new things. As if he was stupid or something. He knew very well what a school was, Justine had explained it to him. What he didn't know was what he'd learn there. Daniel had already taught him everything he needed. Well, except for reading. He only could read his own name, and only if it was written in capital letters.

'Good. I'm afraid we haven't a bedroom ready for you, so you'll spend the night here. By tomorrow we'll have fixed a place for you. If you need anything, you can call Poppy here. Do you have any questions?'

_Yes. When will Daniel and Justine come back for me? When will I get back to Pylea?_ He had asked the same questions to Wesley, and that had been when he had told him those awful lies.

He shook his head.

* * *

Harry Potter was crying in his cupboard under the stairs. He felt so miserable. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever felt that miserable before, with the possible exception of his last birthday, when all he'd got from his uncle and aunt had beem a toothbrush. 

But what had happened that day was as bad or perhaps worse than his last brithday. He'd accidentally broken one of Aunt Petunia's crystal jars, and she'd been so mad. She had made him to clean up the mess and didn't care at all when Harry cut his little finger with a piece of broken glass. Then she had locked him in the cupboard. He didn't like it there. It was very dark, and there were spiders. But Aunt Petunia didn't care about it either. She said he was a bad boy and he deserved being there. Also, she'd told him he wouldn't have any dinner, and he was so hungry.

Sometimes, he dreamed that a distant relative would come and take him away from the Dursleys. And this relative would be kind and caring, and he'd sleep in a bedroom much larger than Dudley's, and he'd never miss dinner again.

But no one ever came, and he felt so lonely…

* * *

Darkness filled the place. Darkness filled everything in there. Darkness was all he had. 

He tried not to look through the bars of his cell. He already knew what he'd see. There were Dementors watching his door day and night. After all, he was a dangerous psycho murderer, wasn't he?

He let out a harsh laugh. He couldn't do anything else. He felt so weak…Only one thought kept him alive and sane.

_I'm innocent, and Peter is still free._

A thought that poisoned his heart, but at the same time gave him strength to keep on breathing, day after day, second after second. A thought that the Dementors couldn't take away from him.

_He'll pay for this. He'll pay for all he did_.

* * *

So, what do you think of it? Liked it? No? Tell me in a review! 


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks again to Joycelyn for her patient work!**

* * *

**Chapter One: First Impressions**

Sunlight entered through the curtains and shone on Connor's dark eyelashes. He kept his eyes shut for a moment, then remembered that Daniel wouldn't wait **on **him for breakfast. Not like it mattered, because Justine would save something for him anyway, but getting up early was very important to Daniel, so he opened his eyes and sat up on the bed.

To his disappointment, his sight didn't meet the familiar hut where he'd spent most of his life, but this large and white room called hospital wing. He deflated visibly.

'Oh, you're already up' He turned **a**round and saw Poppy smiling at him 'Do you want breakfast?'

She pointed at the table next to Connor's bed, on which there were a bottle of milk, a plate with toasts, and some porridge. He knew most of these things from the time he'd stayed with Wesley and the others. Before that, his meals had mostly consisted **of** bread, berries and some unnamed creature's meat.

'Yes!' He said, cheered up at the sight of food. Then he remembered his manners 'Yes, please, milady.'

The nurse was a little disconcerted at the solemn addressing and she tried her best not to laugh.

'Then eat as much as you want, dear. Do you want honey or jelly on your toast?'

'Albus, I still don't think that keeping that boy here is a good idea.'

It wasn't the first time that Severus expressed his concerns about Connor's presence in the castle. Of the three people who knew the whole story, he was the most reluctant to accept it. It wasn't surprising. He had never been famous for his tolerance…or his fondness of children.

'This is hardly the right place for a small child, and the term starts in fifteen days. Who is going to take care of him?'

Dumbledore inhaled deeply.

'This is a _school_, Severus' He conveniently forgot to mention the fact that the youngest students were eleven '**A**nd arrangements can be made. Poppy can take care of him during lessons, and Hagrid can help her' He ignored the young**er** man's snort. It was a known fact that Severus didn't trust the key-keeper that much. 'After lessons, we can watch him in turns…It will only be temporary, Severus. Mr. Wyndam-Pryce wants to pick Connor up as soon as possible. The child may leave Hogwarts before the term starts. And certainly, he's more than capable of taking care of himself.'

Severus scowled.

'That's exactly what worries me the most, Headmaster. He has an incredible power – and isn't able to control it. Besides, he's been taught to hate magic altogether…'

'That's why he is here: he needs our help to overcome his fears and learn to control himself. And Hogwarts's doors will always be open to all those who need aid.'

Before Severus could reply, they heard screaming coming from the hospital wing. Exchanging worried looks, both wizards hurried to find out what was happening.

When they reached the hospital wing, they found several bottles smashed on the floor and a very upset Madam Pomfrey.

'I'm so sorry, Headmaster. I know you told me not to do magic in front of him, but I forgot…'

'It's all right, Poppy' Dumbledore said, but he sounded tense 'Where has he gone?'

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, sighing.

'That's the problem, I've no idea. He screamed something about me being an evil witch, as the bottles smashed, and he ran away so fast that I couldn't even see him. That kid is not normal, **or** natural.'

Dumbledore didn't bother to reply. Turning to Snape, he said shortly:

'Severus, we have to find him as soon as possible. He doesn't know the castle, so he's probably lost. Fetch Filch and tell him to join the search.'

Snape nodded and left. Dumbledore wanted to pull his bear**d** out. _He hasn't been here for a day and he's already escaped our watch_…

Professor McGonagall was more than a little shocked when a small child ran – crashed, actually – into her.

'Connor! What's the matter,' **s**he inquired because the kid's eyes were wide with horror and he looked terrified. He gasped for air, and calmed down when he recognized her.

'Professor McGonagall, is that…that woman in the hospital wing. She is a…'

'She is a what, Connor?' she asked patiently**, b**ut he seemed too frightened to speak. His lips moved, no sound coming out from them. The woman leaned closer and put a hand on his shoulder, not noticing the child's faint wince at the touch.

'_She is a witch,_' he finally managed to hiss, and immediately covered his mouth, as if he had said something awful. Professor McGonagall's eyes **widened** slightly.

'Oh, I see' She remembered quite well what Dumbledore had told them about Connor's fear of magic. She realised how delicate the situation was. 'Do you want to come to my office, Connor? I've got some biscuits there.'

The little boy nodded and followed her. There was something **about** her that reassured him – maybe it was the way she talked, calm and sensible.

Once in her office, instead of sitting on the opposite side of the desk, Professor McGonagall chose to sit next to him. After Connor's eyes had surveyed the room curiously (he noticed there were loads of books there) and he had had a couple of biscuits, she asked what he knew about witches.

'Well…they are evil**,' h**e stated, surprised by the question. _Everyone_ knew that. Seeing the frown on her face, though, he decided to explain himself better. 'They're against God. They believe they can overpower Him with their…powers. I think they worship the Devil, too.**'**

'I see' McGonagall's face was **unreadable**. 'Have you ever met a real witch?'

Connor's eyes widened.

'No way!'

'So you've never seen one of those…witches with your own eyes?'

'Well**,' h**e said, frowning in concentration 'in my village there was an old woman…She took herbs and cooked them. People said she had powers… I guess she was a little _witch-y.'_

'And was she mean to you, or to someone you knew?'

Now Connor was shocked. Had old Lamara been mean to anyone in her life? She lived isolated in her hut, and people visited her to ask favors, and she gave them those mixtures she prepared. She was odd and most villagers avoided her, but she wasn't mean. Actually, she was always very polite to everybody and once she helped Connor to carry his basket at the market.

'Hmm, no**,'** he admitted. 'But she didn't believe in God**,'** he quickly added.

A silence followed these words, while McGonagall wondered what kind of people would teach that stuff to a five-year-old child. And she** thought** that _Muggles_ had progressed a lot since Middle Age.

'I'm afraid you are a little confused, Connor' He opened his mouth to protest, but she went on nevertheless. 'You've been taught that magic is evil, and even though it's true that many times magic has been misused, that's not accurate.'

The child raised an eyebrow. Daniel had taught him that, and there was no way Daniel could be wrong about anything. He was the wisest person he'd ever seen. Sure, he hadn't met many people as he'd spent his whole life in a hell dimension **where** humans still had to hide...but that was beside the point. However, Professor McGonagall looked wise too. It wouldn't do any harm to listen to what she **had **to say.

'What do you mean?'

'I'll try to make it more simple. Let's imagine that magic is like a knife. Let's suppose you used the knife in order to eat. There's nothing wrong in that, is **there**?'

Connor frowned in concentration. Professor McGonagall had the distinct inmpression that he was the kind of kid who never answered without thinking it carefully first.

'Hmm…I guess no.'

'In that case, the knife is just a tool that helps you. Now, let's imagine that someone **uses** that knife to hurt another person. In that case, the knife is used to do evil, and it's not an innocuous object anymore. Are you following me?'

Connor nodded, even though he wasn't sure **what** the link between a simple knife and the tricky magic was.

'The same thing happens with witchcraft. It can be used as a tool to do good – or evil. However, that doesn't necessarily mean that all magic is evil.'

She glanced at him to see whether he had understood. He was frowning, but it seemed like he was considering what she'd said.

'So, magic is not always bad?'he asked shyly. She shook her head.

'No, Connor, it isn't.'

'And the people who uses it?'

She repressed a smile. This kid never gave up, did he?

'Witches and wizards are just like any other people you've met in your life. You'll find that some of them are good-hearted and some of them aren't. The only difference is that they possess a great power, which carries a great responsibility.'

Connor considered it. Professor McGonagall sounded very reasonable and sensible (something that Daniel would have admired) but it was hard to forget all his old beliefs. He decided he'd wait to see whether she was right or not before jumping **to** conclusions about the matter. In the meanwhile, he was afraid he might **owe** Poppy an apology.

In that moment, Professor Snape ran into the office. Both Connor and McGonagall stared at him, perplexed.

'Minerva, we must find the…' Then, his eyes laid on Connor and he winced, looking startled. The woman's lips curved a little.

'Connor and I were having a little chat. I think we are going to get along just fine, don't you think?'

Darkened alleys and stinky sewers. That was all she'd seen since that night. When he'd **been** born. Her little miracle. Where was he now? She felt him, he had to be somewhere. He couldn't be gone.

The Englishman and his friends hadn't wanted to tell her where he was. They were afraid she might try to hurt him. Fools. How could she hurt a part of herself?

She didn't deny that at first she'd also thought like that. That had been why she'd gone away after the birth. She didn't want to be close to him. Such a little, fragile thing. And she was so strong and dangerous.

Angel had understood. He knew what it was like. He'd promised he'd take care of their little boy, and she knew he would. So she didn't worry about it.

Until that night. She'd sensed, somehow, what was going on. She knew her child was in danger. So she came back, but it was too late: Angel was gone, as well as his brunette girlfriend (what had been her name?), and her baby, too. She was desperate. She couldn't feel him anymore. That link between them – which hadn't been broken after the birth – was gone. And she was terrified, imagining what could have happened.

She stalked Angel's friends until she got some answers. The Texan girl babbled something **about an incorporeal demon and a SWAT team sent** by Wolfram and Hart killing Angel, and Daniel Holtz kidnapping her son. It didn't make sense at all. But she realised they didn't know where her child was more than she did, and she left them alone.

However, things were different now. A few weeks ago she'd felt him again. He was back.

She'd looked for Angel's friends again, but they had moved. Probably trying to get away from her. She'd have to try something different.

**That was** why she'd left her safe hideout and was in this hellish inn. She wanted some information, and this was the right place to get it.

What she hadn't expected was to find a couple of demons talking about someone she knew very well. Or she'd thought she did.

'That **vampire** Spike? I've seen him. Hell, he's a mess. He's working for the Slayer now.'

'What! Why?'

Darla wondered the same thing. Last time she'd bothered to check, Spike killed Slayers, not worked for them.

'Because**,'** the demon lowered his voice, but not low enough so she couldn't hear it, 'now he has a soul.'

'Oh, damn it! He's been cursed, too.'

The demon grimaced.

'Not quite so' Then, he added in a theatrical whisper '_He got it by himself_…'

Almost two weeks had passed by, and it seemed that Connor had **gotten** over his first shock and he'd accepted that Hogwarts was a sorcery school. He still winced every time he saw something magical (not to mention when he saw a ghost), and **the **adults were very careful not to perform magic in front of him, but he was doing much better. He still wasn't convinced that magic was a good thing, but he showed some tolerance towards it. Dumbledore had had many conversations with the child about the subject, and Connor admitted to himself that there was something in the old man that made him to trust him in spite of himself.

However, the Headmaster's wise words wouldn't have had **an **effect on Connor if it hadn't been for an incident **on** the grounds, which weakened his prejudice against magic.

Professor Flitwick was the one watching him, and he was having quite a hard time. Even though Daniel had instructed him to always be quiet unless he was talked to, Connor was lively by nature, and he seemed incapable of being immobile for too long. Finally, Flitwick decided to take him to the school grounds to distract him. It proved to be an awful idea, because Connor walked much faster than the little professor, who had to run in order not to lose him from sight.

It was fortunate they ran into Hagrid, because Flitwick was already out of breath and his heart was pounding in his chest. For Merlin's beard, did this kid ever get tired?

Connor wasn't sure yet whether he trusted Hagrid (in fact, Daniel had raised him to trust no one completely). His incredible size intimidated him a little, and he spoke funny. However, Connor was mesmerized with his dog, Fang and besides, Hagrid had admitted that he was no wizard, which was okay for Connor.

So when he saw the huge man, closely followed by his dog, the child was thrilled. He ran to him and, without so much as a preliminary hello, he asked if he could play with Fang. Hagrid smiled.

'Sure yeh can' Finally little Professor Flitwick had managed to reach Connor, but he was gasping for air and Hagrid, feeling sympathy for him, invited the wizard to a cup of tea. Flitwick accepted at once: he needed a break.

While the adults chatted politely inside the hut, Connor played with the dog. He had never seen a dog before (they didn't exist in Pylea) and he thought that Fang was the cleverest and funniest animal in the world. He secretly wished he could have a dog like that.

Fang ran in circles around the hut and the kid chased him, always careful not to go too far. Especially towards the Forbidden Forest. He had been strongly warned about that place, and even though he was rather curious to see what was in there, he was wise enough not to disobey. Last time he did something like that, he almost ended up under the wheels of a trailer, back in LA.

Suddenly, Fang barked as though there was something wrong. Connor froze. Should he go and get Hagrid? The hut was in the opposite direction, and it'd be quicker if he went to check by himself. He inhaled and ran to where Fang was.

At first sight, the dog looked all right. **He** didn't seem hurt or **any**thing. However, it was sitting unnaturally still, looking at something on the ground. Connor approached it, and realised what was it looking at.

There was a small owl lying there, quivering and hooting painfully. Its dark feathers were covered in blood and it seemed to be suffering an unbearable ache. Connor kneeled next to it and caressed its little head. The bird blinked, glass-eyed.

'Did you do this, Fang?' The child asked reproachfully. The dog looked indignant. _Of course not_, **his** eyes said, _what do you take me for?_

The kid took gently the tiny owl with his hands, careful not to increase its pain. He stood up slowly, and then walked as fast as he could to Hagrid's hut.

'Sorry, lad. I'm a'raid it's dyin'' Hagrid said when he saw the injured owl. Connor felt his eyes watering.

'Can't you do something,' **h**e asked in a small voice. He didn't want the pretty bird to die. And it was suffering so much…Hagrid shook his head sadly.

In that moment, they heard Flitwick clearing his throat.

'If you let me**,' h**e said in his high-pitched voice. 'I think that I can help.'

He took his wand out – Connor flinched and hid behind Hagrid – and he pointed at the owl. He mumbled some words in a language that Connor didn't know, and a white light came from the end of his wand. The light engulfed the owl, and to Connor's shock, he saw how the blood disappeared and the large wound in its chest closed. When it ended, the owl wasn't hooting anymore, and it looked healthy – although a little confused – again.

On their way back to the castle (after Hagrid had promised twice to take care of the owl), Flitwick was surprised to hear Connor's shy voice:

'Professor, may I ask you a question?'

'Yes, of course.'

In spite of the teacher's usual polite tone of voice, the boy hesitated.

'If you hadn't used that…magic**,'** he managed to say at last, 'that little owl would have died, wouldn't it?'

'Yes, Connor. It would have.'

They were both silent until they reached the entrance doors, when Connor muttered, more to himself than to Flitwick:

'Then _maybe_ magic is not that bad after all.'

And from that moment on, life at Hogwarts felt a little more bearable to Connor.

'Don't you dare **run** away from this, boy!'

One could realise when Vernon Dursley was mad not only by his shouting, but also by the interesting shade of purple of his face. And this time, his face was almost violet.

Harry froze. He was terrified. Uncle Vernon was _so_ mad…Until now, he'd never laid a hand **on** him (although his son, Dudley, loved to use him as a punching bag) but he could be dreadful all the same.

And it hadn't been his fault, really. Dudley was the one who had started it, teasing Harry about being an orphan. He told him no one liked orphans and that no one liked him. Harry had told him to shut up his fat mouth, but deep down he was afraid that his cousin might be right. No one seemed to like him or care for him. He was alone.

Finally he was so fed up that he said that a whale was slimmer than Dudley. Of course, his cousin hadn't liked that. He'd taken his mini-baseball bat (though large enough to scare Harry) and began chasing him. Harry ran as fast as he could, but he tripped and soon Dudley caught him. In that moment, something odd happened. The bat escaped from Dudley's hand, rose in the air, and began hitting him on the head, as if an invisible hand was manipulating it.

His cousin had cried **out in** pain and terror, and Aunt Petunia arrived at once. The bat fell to the ground, motionless, but not before she'd seen what had happened.

She didn't look at Harry as she hugged her son. In fact, she didn't acknowledge his presence until Dudley had calmed down.

'Wait until your Uncle is here' she hissed, her voice full of hatred. 'Then you'll get what you deserve, _freak_.'

And so here he was now, waiting for his punishment. It didn't come. Instead, they heard the doorbell.

'What the…?'

It was Mrs. Figg, an odd neighbour who looked after Harry when the Dursleys went out. She looked neither shocked nor scared by Uncle Vernon's face.

'Excuse me, Mr. Dursley, but your wife told me she'd bring Harry to my house at five o'clock, so I'd look after him. Now it's half past five, and as she is always so punctual, I came to see if there was something wrong.'

'Something wrong,'** h**e snapped. 'No, there's nothing wrong, Mrs. Figg. Just take the boy out of my sight.'

As they walked to her home, Mrs.Figg looked sympathetic.

'It won't always be like this, Harry' she said, placing a hand on his little shoulder. The kid, however, looked skeptical.

She repressed a sigh. She knew that Albus Dumbledore had some important reason to leave Harry with **these** people, but she couldn't help wishing the boy could live with other kind of people sometimes. Times like these.

The poor child didn't deserve to live with those Muggles. He deserved something much better. And he could have had it, if only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hadn't killed his parents.

If only Sirius Black hadn't turned to the dark side…

* * *

**Conangse:** Well, here's the update at last. Thank you so much for reviewing, I hope you keep liking this fic. I've started your Atvs/HP xover fic and it sounded quite interesting. 


	3. Chapter 2

Like always, thanks to Joycelyn for her patience and her ability to spot my mistakes and correct them. Also, many thanks to Conangse for the review!

* * *

**Chapter Two: Adaptation**

Connor Angel wasn't a normal child. Even without knowing his extraordinary story, one would notice it with just one look at him.

First, his expression was pretty uncommon for a kid his age. Normally, children were cheerful and carefree, or pouty and sulky. Connor was neither. His look was serious most of the time (and somewhat distrusting, like someone who had seen too much) and thoughtful. He didn't talk much, but one could see that he didn't miss a single detail. He studied everything and everyone, calculating their strong points as well as their possible flaws, and also the possible danger they could represent, in the same way an extremely careful (or paranoid) adult would have done.

Secondly, he didn't seem impressed by the things most children were. He wasn't enthusiastic at the childish games that Flitwick had tried to teach him (but maybe because those games were too magical for his liking), he had no idea of how to use a toy, and he certainly didn't like to be cuddled, as Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey soon found out. In fact, he didn't like to be touched at all, not to say being hugged.

More disconcerting, though, was his apparent lack of fear. Darkness didn't frighten him, neither did scary creatures like hippogriffs. He didn't appear to be afraid of Hagrid, who could be quite terrifying at first sight, or the Forbidden Forest (which could be a problem if they didn't watch out).

But what puzzled Professor Snape the most was that Connor didn't look intimidated even a little bit by him. Considering that most of his students shuddered from just one of his glares, not to say with his sarcasm, it was more than a little shocking that the boy didn't even blink under Snape's stare. Actually, he even appeared to feel rather comfortable with him. Which was ridiculous. Snape didn't know how to treat young children. Snape didn't even _like_ young children.

In spite of this, the truth was that Connor seemed to enjoy the times Snape took care of him. It was hard to explain, due to the Potions Master's coldness and severity, but that was the way things were.

Maybe it was because he never tried to cuddle him, or to entertain him with silly and incomprehensible games. Or maybe because he didn't use so much magic in his presence (instead he did these sparkling mixtures which Connor thought were sort of cool). On the other hand, there was always something interesting in his office. As to coldness and severity, well, Connor had spent five years of his life in Daniel Holtz's company, so he was quite used to it.

So while Snape did his mixtures or corrected his students' homework (the term had started a week ago), Connor would spend his time investigating his office (always being careful not to touch anything conspicuous), drawing something or trying to understand Flitwick's newest and useless game. All of this as quietly as he could, of course. Professor Snape didn't like to be questioned or annoyed with too much noise, and for Connor that was okay. Daniel had taught him the virtue of silence.

This time Snape seemed to be upset over something, so Connor tried to be especially quiet while he was drawing a Pylean scenery. When he was colouring an extremely ugly demon's face, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor. He looked up, but Snape didn't pay him attention, until a knock was heard.

'_Finally,_' he snapped, standing up and opening the door.

A twelve-year-old girl was standing on the doorstep, looking slightly apprehensive. She was wearing Gryffindor's colours and carrying a broomstick.

'Good afternoon, Professor. I came as soon as I got your message. It sounded urgent.'

Her pretty face was darkened by worry and anxiety as she waited for Snape's reply.

'And it is, indeed,' He used the low and cold tone of voice that sent shivers down his students' spines. The girl didn't flinch, but she looked a little more worried. 'I've just had a word with the Head of your House about your…performance in my lessons.' The girl gulped, and he sneered. 'I'm afraid I'll have to take some drastic measures if I don't see any improvement soon, Tonks.'

'What kind of measures, sir?'

Snape's sneer became more pronounced.

'As detentions seem to make no effect on you, I suggested not allowing you to play Quidditch as long as you insist to be such a disaster in my class.'

Tonks's jaw dropped in horror.

'You can't do that! I've just got onto the team and, besides, Potions has nothing to do with Quidditch!'

The teacher was no longer sneering. In fact, he looked quite angry.

'Listen, silly girl. Today you not only managed to blow up your cauldron for the second time this week, but you also managed to make another three cauldrons blow up in a row. If you don't begin to be careful, you'll put yourself and your classmates in severe danger, apart from destroying my classroom. So start to be very cautious in my lessons, or you can say goodbye to Quidditch for the rest of your school career!'

The girl seemed to understand the message, because her face became very pale. She didn't say another word, but after Snape had dismissed her Connor could hear her sobbing in the distance.

There was a sullen expression on the Potion Master's face when he sat down at his desk again. The boy watched him for a few seconds, then he stood up and approached him.

'I think it was the right thing to do.'

Snape blinked, taken aback for a moment. Connor ignored it and went on.

'Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind. If you hadn't talked to her like that, she would have kept being careless and she might have hurt herself or someone else.'

His tone of voice was serious, like always, and not for the first time Snape thought that this boy had a head too old for his young shoulders. However, he did feel a little pleased that at least someone agreed with the way he treated his students.

'Funny, but most people – Professor McGonagall, for instance – don't appear to think that way.'

Connor merely shrugged. Sometimes, he found certain people's behavior impossible to comprehend.

'Why don't you show me what you've been drawing?' Professor Snape asked, trying his best to sound polite, but his voice sounded somewhat harsh from the lack of practice. Connor didn't seem to mind that much, though. He handed his parchment to Snape, unable to hide his pride. He thought it was one of his best drawings.

The teacher studied it, a frown on his face.

'It's ugly,' he said, and the boy's heart sank. 'But I bet that the model was quite ugly too.'

Professor Severus Snape was more than a little shocked to see that the always too serious Connor Angel was actually _grinning_.

* * *

Percy Weasley was in a temper, which was quite an unusual thing. Normally he was a placid child, a little too serious maybe. But today he was in turmoil. 

He had been trying to read a very interesting book under the oak in the garden, but the twins had been making too much noise. He'd told them to be quiet, but they ignored him, as per usual. They behaved worse, if possible, shouting and screaming and chasing each other and laughing. So he got tired of it after a while and entered the house, with the purpouse of continuing his reading.

However, things weren't any better inside. His mother was frantic becuase Ginny had showed the same symptoms as Ron and she was afraid they were both sick of Dragon Tattoo, a common but highly contagious illness. And due to the reduced size of their house, it was very possible that the rest of the children would get sick, too.

So when Percy approached her to ask the meaning of a particularly difficult couple of words, she yelled at him to go out. He didn't like that. He didn't want to go out with Fred and George, and he wanted his mother to give him answers and pay him some attention, not to yell at him.

Of course, he wouldn't dare to disobey her. Very few were brave enough to contradict Molly Weasley when she was mad, and Percy was an obedient kid. Perhaps a little _too_ obedient.

He took his pet, Scabbers, and exited, fuming. When Bill was still at home, things hadn't been like this. He knew how to keep the twins under control and how to calm down their mother. But now he was at Hogwarts, as well as Charlie, and Percy was left alone at home with the kids. Because of course that the twins were too annoying to play with him, and Ron and Ginny were too small, so he was on his own.

He wished he were at Hogwarts, too. There he wouldn't be alone as he'd have a lot of classmates to play with. And he'd learn loads of interesting things and magic and all. But he was only eight years old, so he'd have to wait a full three years until he could take the Hogwarts Express.

He talked about all this to Scabbers. Of course he knew that the rat wouldn't be able to understand what he was saying, but he nedeed to talk to someone – anyone – or he'd explode. And Scabbers was the only thing that was truly his, the only thing he hadn't inherited from his elder brothers or cousins. Percy had found it three years ago, while had been helping his dad (or trying to help) get rid of the gnomes. The poor rat was hiding under some bushes, and not only was it very thin, but also injured: one of its fingers was missing and bleeding.

'Daddy, can we take it home?'

Arthur Weasley had a soft spot for helpless little creatures, so he'd agreed. His wife, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. Ginny was just three months old and she had her hands full, she certainly didn't have time to take care of a pet. But Percy insisted so much in keeping the animal that she finally gave up. In the end, the boy proved that he was responsible enough to take care of his pet by himself, so Scabbers stayed for good at The Burrow.

Scabbers wasn't a fascinating or active pet, but Percy would have sworn that it understood everything he told it. The rat, which was getting fatter and fatter, stared at him with his round, dark eyes, as if it was listening intently to every word he said.

Sometimes, Percy thought Scabbers was the only friend he had. And, sometimes, he couldn't help to wonder why its attitude seemed so human to him. So _unnaturally_ human.

But, most of the time, he didn't think too much about it.

* * *

Wesley stared at the piece of parchment in front of him. 

'Is it good news,' Gunn asked him. Wesley blinked. He hadn't seen him coming.

'Actually, it is. Professor Dumbledore says that Connor is adapting to Hogwarts quite well. He's even getting used to magic.'

Gunn snorted.

'Let's hope he don't get used to it too much or we'll have trouble when he comes back. 'Cause he's comin' back, right?'

'Of course. I just...I just think it'd better if we leave him there a little while longer. He seems to be all right, and here we have our hands quite full right now.'

Gunn nodded and left in silence, leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts. He reflected about Connor. He was just a troubled young child who had seen too much. And who would have to see much more, according to some prophecies.

He wished it wasn't like that. He wished that Connor could have a normal childhood – as normal as the son of two vampires could have – he wished that he'd never have to worry about apocalypsys and fulfilling prophecies. He wished that he could be raised by his own father. And Cordelia. But things weren't like that.

His face darkened when he remembered the night when Angel and Cordy had died. It had been a quiet night, and the attack had taken them all by surprise.

Wolfram and Hart had sent its best SWAT team, along with the demon Sahjaan, in order to retrieve and presumably kill Connor. But something went wrong. Holtz had found out about Sahjaan's true intentions and he and his second-in-command, Justine, kidnapped the baby while everyone else was too busy fighting. They knocked Lorne and Fred unconscious, who had been watching Connor, and the woman had stabbed Wesley when he'd tried to stop them. He'd been lucky, though. Later he found out that Holtz had taken over many of the SWAT team members, and those didn't live to tell the tale.

And Cordy and Angel had died. They didn't know exactly how: they'd found Cordy's body next to a pile of dust and Angel's coat. At first they'd thought she was just unconscious but there wasn't a heartbeat or a pulse. She never woke up.

At the morgue they said her brain had just collapsed, and Fred found some medical studies at her place that indicated it was a miracle she'd made it so long, when most of her brain was dead. But why she had collapsed in that very minute, and how... They'd never know for sure.

After healing their wounds and regrouping, they'd begun their search for Connor. What they hadn't known at the time was that he no longer was in their dimension, so all their efforts were futile. After three weeks without results, they were becoming desperate.

And then Justine showed up.

She looked very different from that night. Her hair was longer, darker and messier; she was slimmer and there were several lines around her eyes now. She was wearing some kind of shabby robes and a scar crossed her left cheek. In short, she looked much older, as if years and not mere weeks had passed since she'd stabbed Wesley and kidnapped Connor. The only reason why he didn't kick her out was because he hadn't recognized her at first. And then he saw who was with her.

A small and skinny boy, with big blue eyes and brownish hair, was holding her hand tightly as if he was afraid she'd disappear in any moment. Wesley was pretty sure he'd never seen this boy before but there was something in his face, something in the way he was standing and the way he studied his surroundings that was painfully familiar. And then it hit him: He looked just like Angel when he felt uneasy and distrusting.

'Is he...? No, it can't be...'

'But he is,' she'd whispered. 'You can bet he is.'

And he was. Connor Angel, his best friend's son, was now five years old.

'How can this be?'

And so she'd told him the complete story. Holtz had found out about Sahjaan, and he'd wanted to prevent him from killing Connor. But he didn't trust Angel, of course, so they'd kidnapped him. But the demon had followed them and had tried to stop them. They'd been ready. As soon as he'd got close enough, they used the magical urn that would keep him trapped forever. However, they hadn't been able to trap him before the demon had opened some kind of portal that had sucked the three of them. A portal to a hell dimension.

'The natives call it Pylea,' She'd explained to him, and he was shocked. The time in Pylea worked the same way as in their dimension. Why, then, five years had passed for Justine and Connor?

She told him that it was because of all the changes there had been in Pylea since the priests didn't rule the place. Some of those changes had affected the way time worked there, she wasn't sure. The guy that had helped them to go back had explained it to her, but he hadn't given her too many details. He'd just warned her that she'd probably find things the same way she'd left them.

'But they're not the same. Not the same at all.'

Wesley asked her who this man was, and to his shock she answered he was called the Groosalugg. He was the ruler of Pylea now, and when he'd found out that Connor was Angel's child, he'd inmediately wanted to help Justine to go back.

'But why did you suddenly want to go back? What happened? And where's Holtz?'

Her face darkened. In a low voice, she explained that there was an epidemic in Pylea. No one knew the cure, no one knew how to prevent it. And it was lethal.

Holtz'd been worried that Connor might get the sickness, as children were more vulnerable to it. So they'd asked the Groosalugg for help, even though they knew he was a friend of Angelus.

However, Holtz'd got sick before the portal was ready. He'd only lasted a few hours. Justine had no choice but to go through the portal with Connor and leave him there. She was planning to take care of him, as Holtz would have wanted – but then she saw them. The green spots on her neck. The same ones that had appeared on Holtz's neck before he died. The same ones that had appeared on everyone else who had got the sickness.

'So here I am. I can no longer take care of him. I've done my best, though. If you still want to kill me...go ahead. It no longer matters.'

He hadn't killed her, of course. She'd left, then, without saying goodbye to Connor because she'd thought it'd make things easier for him. And hell began.

Connor didn't trust them at all. Holtz had told him his parents had been evil, so he didn't think much of his father's friends. Apart from the fact he was terrified of Lorne (and Pyleans in general), he didn't like Gunn, he thought that Fred was an evil witch because he saw her using magic once, and he believed that Wesley was a liar.

He didn't believe what the former Watcher had told him about Holtz's death, and he hoped that he and Justine would come back for him. It never happened, of course, but the kid still believed they would. In fact, he escaped a couple of times, hoping he'd find them, and once he was nearly killed by a nasty clan of demons. Which didn't help him to trust them at all, of course.

Finally, they got truly scared when Connor's magical powers manifested at first. They thought he was possessed, until Wesley talked to Giles. The older Watcher had guessed what was the source of Connor's powers, and had suggested taking him to Hogwarts.

At first, they were reluctant to follow that piece of advice. They had sworn they'd take care of Angel's child. They owed him and Cordy that much. But soon the situation was unbearable (Lorne even ran to Las Vegas) and they had to face the reality: they couldn't take care of him.

Now Connor was at Hogwarts, and he seemed to be doing quite well. Certainly he didn't miss them at all.

Wesley sighed. At that time, he'd thought that taking Connor to Hogwarts was the best option. Giles knew the Headmaster, it was a safe place, and he'd learn to tame his powers there. But now he had the odd feeling he'd made a terrible mistake. He reread the parchment, filled with dread.

_Connor is adapting very well. He is being more tolerant towards magic, and we hope that he will accept his own powers soon. Also, he seems to be enjoying himself at the castle…I am sure you would be able to take him home in a couple of weeks…_

Gunn's words haunted him. What if Connor adapted so well to Hogwarts that he wouldn't want to go home at all?

* * *

**Notes:**

When I first thought of this story, I based it fully on Snape and Sirius dealing with their surrogate children. However, as I wrote this fic there was a side story that began to form in my mind: the long, uphill road to redemption that Darla was bound to take. So I began to write a series of vignettes about her side of the story, a sort of companion piece to this fic. It's not necessary to read it, but there you'll find certain things (like Connor's birth or Angel's death) more carefully described. You can check it out here: http/ go to my profile and check 'i so far down'.


	4. Chapter 3

**Many thanks, like always, to Joycelyn.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Painful memories**

It was bedtime, so Snape escorted Connor to his bedroom. It was a small room near the hospital wing, so if there were any trouble Madam Pomfrey would be able to hear him. Also, there was a house elf always ready to fulfill Connor's demands, which weren't many. The kid felt quite uncomfortable around those weird creatures, so he didn't call them too much.

Connor undressed at an amazing speed and jumped into the bed. He was really tired, after spending most of the day playing with Fang and running around the school grounds, always careful not to be seen by the students. Dumbledore didn't want too many people to know about his presence at Hogwarts. There would be too many awkward questions.

After muttering the typical 'Sleep tight', Snape turned to leave. When he had reached the doorstep, though, he heard Connor's shy voice.

'Professor Snape, may I ask you a favor?'

He was surprised. Until now, all the boy had dared to ask for was a glass of water. Intrigued, he turned round and asked him almost politely what he wanted.

'Would you tell me a bedtime story?'

Now Snape was shocked. He had never told a bedtime story – or any kind of story – to a child in his life. In fact, he had never heard many of those stories himself, because his parents had never been very keen on that sort of thing.

'Daniel always told me a story before I slept. And I miss it.'

The adult understood he wasn't only referring to the tales, but also to Daniel and the life he'd left behind. When he looked at the child's wide open eyes, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time – sympathy. The poor child had had a tough life, and he had lost the only people he had been close to. He could understand the way he was feeling.

So instead of refusing, which had been his original idea, he sat on the bed next to him and asked which kind of stories he preferred. He hoped it wouldn't be those silly _Muggle_ fairy tales. He'd feel way too stupid telling a tale about items of decoration.

'Daniel always told me about places and things he had seen, things we didn't have at Pylea, like oceans and stuff. But my favorite tales were those about English Kings and wars.'

Snape was relieved. It wouldn't be so hard, after all. He didn't know much about _Muggle_ Kings, but he remembered a few of Binns's lessons that would make anyone to fall asleep.

'I don't know much about wars and Kings,' he admitted, 'but I'll tell you how this school was founded…'

Not surprisingly, Connor fell asleep a few minutes later. A little more surprisingly was that Snape _also_ fell asleep, lying next to the child.

Binns's lessons were truly boring.

_The two suns shone brightly at the blue sky. Spring had arrived and everything looked full of life._

_He was walking down the main road, signing a song under his breath, Justine's hand holding his. Some people nodded at them when they passed, but most averted their eyes. He didn't care. Everything was just so perfect…_

_Until that man appeared, and suddenly Justine was terrified. She told him to run, but he didn't understand what was going on and he wouldn't leave her alone. Then that man had bellowed something in another language._

_That was when the pain started…_

Screaming woke him up. What on Earth…? It took him a full minute to realise that it was Connor who was screaming, and another minute to remember why he was there and react.

'Connor? Connor, what's wrong?'

The kid didn't answer. Tears strolling down his face, he twitched and screamed in terrible pain. Snape was reminded horribly of Cruciatus Curse's victims. He looked around, but there wasn't anybody else in the room. What was going on?

Without thinking, he took the small child in his arms. At once, Connor's eyes snapped wide open. He looked terrified for a moment and winced, but Snape kept holding him. The boy began to shake, but the worst part seemed to have passed.

'Shh, shh.' Snape, uncertain about what to do, began caressing the child's head. He calmed down a little, and his sobs grew fainter. 'What happened?'

'Night…nightmare,' Connor babbled, hiding his face in Snape's sleeve, who was frowning. _Nightmare? Yeah, sure_.

He repressed a sigh. Definitely, taking care of this kid wouldn't be easy at all.

* * *

'I'm telling you, Albus, that wasn't a normal nightmare. It was something else.'

Professor Snape and the Headmaster were at his office, discussing what had happened the previous night. Dumbledore had tried to calm him down, but Snape still felt upset about the whole episode. Seeing Connor in such pain had brought painful memories he'd thought were gone forever.

'Connor has had a tough life. It's no wonder that he has terrible nightmares. Probably a past episode of his childhood is haunting him. Or maybe it's just the change of scenery, which has affected him more than we'd thought.'

Snape shook his head.

'Connor is doing just fine here. No, that's not the problem.'

'It might be the former, then.'

They both fell silent, thinking what episode of his life could have caused him such a terrible nightmare. An idea formed in Snape's mind. It was risky, but it was a desperate situation.

He explained his plan to the Headmaster, who frowned. He was afraid that following the young teacher's idea could cause more harm than good to Connor's already unstable state of mind. However, he was pretty sure that Snape would want to give it a try anyway, and he wouldn't cease until he had convinced him.

'I allow you to proceed,' he said, 'but I warn you that doing this can have a terrible cost for Connor. He is still very unstable and something like this could affect him more than you think.'

'Maybe it's risky,' Snape said. 'However, I find it much worse to let him to keep on like this. He isn't stable now, but if we don't do something soon, he'll never be.'

Albus Dumbledore admitted defeat, and the teacher hurried to get out of his office and find Connor. The Headmaster kept staring at the door several minutes after he had disappeared.

'Who would have thought old Snape had a soft spot?'

'Phineas…' Dumbledore said warningly at the portrait of a man wearing Slytherin's colours, even though deep down he felt the same way.

* * *

'Before we start, is there something you want to tell me? About what you dreamed last night?'

Connor shook his head.

'I don't remember anything else, Professor.' He was sincere. All he remembered was the pain. Snape nodded.

'Very well, then. We'll start, if you feel ready.' Connor gave a little nod, and Snape retrieved his wand from his pocket. In spite of himself, the child pulled his chair backwards when the teacher pointed at him with it. Seeing this, Snape lowered his wand again. 'Connor, if you aren't certain about this, we won't do it,' he told him almost gently. 'But I want you to know that this might be the only way for you to get over those nightmares. And also I wanted to say that I,' he took a deep breath, wondering if the boy would believe him at all, 'would never hurt you.'

The kid stared at him, as if he was trying to decide whether he believed him or not. Finally, he appeared to decide that Snape's words were sincere enough, because he nodded more confidently and said:

'I am ready.' For a moment, his voice wasn't the voice of a child but the one of an adult. Snape raised his wand again, and this time Connor didn't even blink.

'Now, Connor, I want you to relax and look at me in the eye, okay?' The boy nodded, his eyes widening, and Snape pronounced the spell: '_Legilmens!'_

Getting into his mind was much harder than he'd expected. Usually children were very vulnerable to Legilimenccy, but he already knew Connor wasn't like any other kid. In fact, Snape was startled to discover that the boy was resisting the spell much better than many grown-ups he knew.

'Connor, easy. Try to relaxe'.

The boy slowly did so, and soon his head was filled with memories that weren't his. A blue sky with twin suns…farms along the countryside…weird and dreadful creatures like the ones Connor used to draw… A severe-looking man teaching a small kid how to hunt (_'If you can't hunt, then you can't have dinner'_) and telling him about the Bible… A red-haired woman singing to him… A horrible monster chasing a fourteen-year-old girl with shinning dark hair, before Connor himself knocked it out with a stone…

And at last, the memory he was looking for. Years of practicing Legilmenccy had taught him to recognize what was important and what irrelevant in an ocean of memories, and he could do it at once.

Connor and the woman were walking around what looked like a market. The boy didn't look much younger than he was now, so it hadn't been a long time since then. Suddenly, an old, decrepit man came out of nowhere. The woman was terrified, and most villagers ran to hide in their homes. Before she could move, the man took out a wand and immobilized her. While she was struggling to get rid of the spell, the man pointed at Connor:

'_Crucio!'_

Snape was filled with cold dread when he saw what happened to Connor. Who in his right mind would do such a thing to a mere child?

The wizard had a twisted smirk plastered on his face, smirk that disappeared abruptly when the same dark-haired girl he'd seen before broke a basin on his head and knocked him out.

Before he could do anything, another memory showed itself. Connor was lying in some precarious bed while shouting was heard. The woman and the man were arguing:

'_Daniel, you can't go after him. He is too powerful…_

'No one capable doing something of that sort to a child will go unpunished as long as I live.' There was a fire in his eyes that could have terrorized Grindewald himself. The woman hesitated.

'Will you kill him?' she said in a hushed voice. The man's face was somber.

'Killing him would be too merciful.'

He pulled himself out of Connor's mind just in time. The boy had fallen from his seat and was crying on the floor. Snape felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Had he gone too far? Was Dumbledore right, and his experiment would cause more harm than good to his troubled mind?

He sat next to the kid and put an arm around his shoulders.

'It's over now, Connor. No one will hurt you here.' But his words made him sob harder against his chest. Snape was panicking. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to do. He wasn't used to being gentle. He never had to comfort a child before, and his own parents hadn't been an example of tenderness.

Instinctually, though, he wrapped his arms around Connor's tiny body and held him tightly. None of them spoke for several minutes, and after a while Connor's sobs became fainter.

'He was an evil wizard, wasn't he?'

Snape sighed. There was no point in denying the truth.

'Yes, he was, though I've no idea what he was doing in Pylea. I'm afraid there are many of them everywhere. But that doesn't mean that _all_ wizards and witches are evil, you know that, right?'

Connor nodded.

'Now I do,' he whispered, looking at Snape in the eye for the first time. He looked at him back, and was surprised at what he found in his blue eyes. Something he had never seen in those eyes since he'd meet him: _trust. '_I didn't remember what…what he did to me. Why didn't I remember,' Connor demanded. Snape gave it a thought.

'Sometimes, we block the most painful memories. We try not to think in them, and after a while we are able to erase them. But they are never truly gone. They just hide there, in the shadows of our own mind, and they haunt us when we least expect it.'

He was afraid that his explanation might be too difficult for a five-year-old, but Connor nodded as if he had understood every word he'd said. And probably he had. He wasn't like any other child.

'Why did he hate me so much?' he mumbled. 'Why did he want to hurt me so badly?'

Snape sighed. Another difficult question in less than five minutes.

'I think… I think he was afraid of you.' Connor stared at him, puzzled. 'He had realised what you were able to do, and he was terrified. I don't know whether he thought that you'd overpower him, or that people wouldn't be so impressed of his magical abilities if you had them too…I don't know. But he was scared of you. He was weak.'

'But he was so powerful and all…'

'Connor, you must learn that power is not the same as strength. A person can have a lot of power and yet be weak inside' _And believe me when I say that I know that very well_. 'He was weak, and pathetic, and ruin. You shall no longer fear him. He can't do you any more harm.'

The kid nodded.

'I know. Daniel took care of that. He cut his hands and his tongue, so he wouldn't be able to cast any more spells.'

Snape stared at him, but Connor's face clearly showed that he wasn't lying. He repressed a shudder. _Connor has had a tough life_… Yes, he had, apparently for more than one reason.

He changed the subject.

'What happened with that girl you saved?'

Connor looked bewildered for a second or two, then he remembered.

'Oh, Ayelet? I didn't save her. I just hit the _drokken_ (that's what those beasts are called) and distracted it until the villagers arrived and killed it.' Connor smiled. 'Daniel was very proud of me. And Ayelet gave me a basket full of berries to thank me. I think she got married or something after that.'

The boy was almost normal now. He wasn't shaking anymore, and there was some colour in his cheeks again, while his voice sounded more confident. Snape was sure that very few kids (and grown-ups) would get over a trauma like that so quickly, and he admired the child's inner strength.

Maybe he didn't lack of fear like he had thought at first, but definitely Connor wasn't a normal kid. He was exceptional.

As he helped him to stand up and cleaned his short robes, the Potions Master thought (even though he'd never, ever admit it out loud) that perhaps taking care of Connor wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Remus Lupin shut the door close and threw his cloak on an old-fashioned armchair. His eyes watched the surroundings dully.

It was a small room, with twin armchairs, a wooden cupboard and a fireplace. Even though it was very clean, the place looked musty. The armchairs and the curtains were almost colourless, while the cupboard had begun to rotten. The fireplace was in better state, of course: he needed it to travel. It wasn't like he could afford a car, was it?

Apart from that, there was an even smaller kitchen and only one bedroom, where there was room just for a bed and a desk. The rest of it was occupied by several boxes in which he put all the stuff he'd bought when he could afford doing so.

Certainly, he wouldn't be able to buy anything other than food and Floo Powder in the near future. Not until he got a new job, which due to his condition wouldn't be an easy task. No one wanted to hire a werewolf.

For centuries, magic folk had feared his kind and rejected them. Many times werewolves were forced to live in the woods, far from civilization…when they weren't murdered by their fellow wizards. Or by _Muggles_.

Nowadays people were subtler. They didn't need to force you to live in a forest, it was enough not to let you to get a job and keep you out of the society. Of course, no one would say that you weren't wanted because of your 'condition', no. They could be accused of segregation. They'd just make up a lame excuse ('we aren't taking anyone at the moment', 'the job is taken', 'you aren't the person we're looking for', etc) and kick you out of their office as soon as they could. Most people didn't want to stay too close to a werewolf, in case it was contagious or something. Yes, he was very aware of what people thought of the ones like him. Which had happened that morning at work was a perfect example.

When he had first got the job, he was relieved. He'd thought that finally he'd found his place. His boss, Mrs. Laribe, was a practical woman, and she'd told him that she didn't care whether he was a werewolf, as long as he could find a replacement when he wasn't able to go to work. She'd promised not to tell anyone about his condition, and at first things had gone smoothly. After a while, however, some of his coworkers had put two and two together. Then, the whispering and the rumours began, and after few weeks the whispers turned into nasty comments and complaints. Finally, someone had complained to Mrs. Laribe's boss. She had no other choice but to ask for his resignation.

He'd been tempted to refuse, then he thought that being fired wouldn't look too good in his curriculum vitae. But probably his curriculum didn't matter, or at least it wasn't enough to make employers forget about what he was. In fact, as soon as they found out about that, they didn't even bother to read it. He snorted. His chances of getting another job soon were very, very few.

He sank on the remaining armchair and closed his eyes. He was so tired of this. He had gone through that sort of thing since he was a child and he was sick of it. It was like a nightmare he'd never be able to wake up from.

He remembered a time when his condition hadn't mattered. A time when he had had true friends, friends that had accompanied him in his worst hours and had turned his transformations into the best moments of his life. A time when he had been happy.

That time was over. Two of those friends were six feet under, and the other one…well, he didn't want to think about him right now.

He took the Daily Prophet, looking for a more or less suitable job. _Here we go again_…

* * *

Spike lit a cigarette. He was outside, at Buffy's porch, because he couldn't bear it any longer. If he stayed in that house one more minute, he'd go insane.

After all, who in his right mind would willingly stay at the same house as a bunch of supernatural teen girls? That without mentioning the annoying Andrew, the Whelp, the Watcher and, it hurt him to admit it, the always too cold Slayer. What had happened to her, anyway? He remembered a time when she had been so full of life…Now she was a mere shell of the girl she'd been.

_She died, moron. She was pulled out of Heaven by her friends, had a not so healthy relationship with an enemy, who later on tried to rape her…_Ok, he got it. She'd had a hard time. But when had she got so dead inside? So empty?

The answer hit him cruelly. _Since Angel died_._ Her soulmate is dead and it won't matter what you do. She'll stay dead too._

If he hadn't been so lost in his own thoughts, he'd have heard the almost inaudible steps behind him. But as he wasn't paying attention, his heart jumped to his throat (figuratively) when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

'Spike?'

That voice…He knew it too well, but it was impossible…Wasn't it?

'_Darla?'_


	5. Chapter 4

**Like always, many thanks to Joycelyn Solo!**

**Chapter Four: Darkness of the soul**

Connor was at Professor Snape's office, as per usual. Since the day Snape'd used Legilmenccy on him to find out the nature of his nightmares, the kid spent more and more time with the Potions Master. Most people (especially Snape's students) would have found it weird, but Snape was the person Connor felt most comfortable with, because he _understood_. The child felt, for the first time since he'd left Pylea, that there was somebody in this place who could understand him, somebody who didn't treat him as if he was some kind of alien. Somebody who treated him like an equal.

What would have truly shocked Snape's students, though, was that the Potions Master actually enjoyed the boy's company. He would never say it out loud, of course. In fact, he complained about having to babysit to everyone who wanted to hear him, but the truth was that he liked having Connor around. It was nice for a change to find someone who didn't loathe his company.

True that sometimes Snape wasn't in the mood to take care of a child, but Connor was very perceptive and knew when he had to be quiet and mind his own business, so he never bothered him. And, when Snape was in a good mood, he'd show the boy how to prepare potions, something Connor found fascinating (even though the teacher didn't let him to stand near the cauldron or to use a knife) or he'd teach him to read. So far, the kid was able to read a few simple words and he'd memorized most letters. Snape'd started to think, not without a hint of irony, that this child was way smarter than most of his fifth year students.

Today, however, Snape was trying to teach Connor something completely different. Professor Dumbledore had expressed his concerns at Connor's lack of interest in games. He'd stated that it was neither normal nor natural in a kid his age. Snape would have liked to point out that Connor was neither normal nor natural, but he realised that the Headmaster was probably right. Children needed to play games, even when they were the offspring of two vampires.

So here he was now, giving Connor his very first lesson of…chess. Not the most childish game in the world, but Snape didn't know many others and besides, Connor had already proved that he didn't like children games.

At first, he'd been shocked at the chessmen moving around the table board on their own, but when one of the bishops knocked a pawn and sent it flying outside the board, he was delighted. It was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. He giggled and clapped, and the chessmen stared at him, and Snape could have sworn they had puzzled looks on their expressionless faces. Obviously, they had never seen such displays of emotion before.

'Well, Connor, I'll teach you the chessmen names.'

The kid's eyes widened in awe.

'They have _names_? Who put them names?'

It took Snape a moment to understand that Connor believed the chessmen had proper names, and he proceed to explain him. The child nodded, his face shinning with understanding.

'It's like a war, and these are the soldiers. You are the one who commands them. Do you understand?'

Connor nodded.

'Daniel explained me everything about war.'

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. They hadn't talked about Holtz since that day, or about anything related to Connor's previous life. Snape wondered if he should push the subject, to make the boy talk about it, but he really didn't want to after all he had seen in Connor's mind. Besides, it wasn't really his business, was it? Connor's father's friends were bound to pick him up anytime soon, and they'd have to deal with the kid's issues. He was just taking care of him temporarily.

Connor looked pensive, too. There was a tiny frown on his face when he whispered:

'They…They are not coming back for me, are they?'

Snape was taken aback for a moment. Then, he opened his mouth to say 'yes', when he realised that Connor wasn't talking about his father's friends.

'You mean Holtz – Daniel Holtz and the woman?'

The boy nodded, his eyes obscured. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. And, for some reason Snape couldn't get, he needed to hear it from _him_.

'No, they won't come back. They…they can't. Holtz is…'

'Dead.' Connor's look was darker than ever. 'I know. Wesley told me, but I didn't believe him. But now…I mean, if he'd been alive, Daniel would have came for me already. He wouldn't have left me alone.'

'Connor, you aren't alone,' Snape replied promptly. The boy looked up, and he was shocked at what he saw: he was smiling. But it wasn't a real smile, but a sad, almost cynical one. More like a sneer than an actual smile…a expression that should never have been on a child's face.

Two things hit Snape then. First was how unnaturally old Connor seemed. He was only five years old, but he'd seen far more things than most of Snape's students. And many – too many – of the things he'd seen hadn't been pretty at all.

Secondly was how much Connor reminded him of…himself. It was painful to admit it, but it was true. Too many times when he was young (not as young as Connor, but not much older either) he'd seen the same expression on his own face. And it wasn't a happy memory.

Connor's voice pulled him out from his reverie.

'Professor, how were these little people called...?'

* * *

'Hey, Potty! Look what I've got for youuuu!'

Harry groaned when he heard Sissy Flagg's voice calling him. He hated Sissy, a petite girl with brown plaits and a pointed nose. Well, the truth was that everyone hated Sissy. At least, all the boys at the nursery did, and he was no exception.

However, he had been taught to be polite, so he turned around and asked what she wanted. The girl grinned almost evilly.

'Well, me and Patsy were playing at the yard,' _It's Patsy and me, silly_, Harry thought but said nothing, 'and I found this. I thought you might be interested.'

But she wasn't showing him what she'd found. Instead, she was hiding her hands behind her back. In spite of himself, Harry was curious. What could Sissy have that would interest him?

'Sissy, show me what it is,' he pleaded, but the girl merely shook her head, making the huge red ribbons on her plaits to collide.

'You have to say _please_.'

Harry was starting to get annoyed, but he was very curious now.

'Please, Sissy, show me.'

A twisted smirk spread over her pretty face.

'All right, I'll show you. But only because you asked me.' Suddenly, Harry was afraid. There was something in Sissy's satisfied voice that made him shiver, but it was too late to do nothing. The girl stretched out her arms, and Harry saw a greenish form in her hands. He leaned closer, and to his horror he found Stanley lying in her palm way too still.

Stanley was a small tortoise that Harry had found one day at the school's yard, and that he had taken care of since then, as his aunt didn't let him to have a pet. Stanley was Harry's best friend in the world, and now it was lying unnaturally still as if it were…

'Is it…is it…?'

'Dead? Yeah, sure. Don't you see how cold it is,' Sissy replied merrily. His eyes watered, and the girl snorted. 'Oh, come on, Potty, you aren't going to cry for an old tortoise, are you? I mean, you should be used to this. Aren't your parents dead?'

In that moment, Harry saw her. Truly saw her, like if it was the first time he laid his eyes on her.

She was still smiling, and her eyes were twinkling, as if there was nothing wrong. In fact, she looked like her birthday had came a month early.

Harry felt pure hatred towards her. He'd never felt like this before, not even when Dudley used him as a punching bag. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to make her cry.

Sissy shrieked, making him jump. She began to scream and to shake her head madly, and he thought she'd gone nuts. Until he saw her hair. Instead of the huge awful ribbons, there were two small red... _crabs?_

He had no idea how these crabs had appeared there, but somehow Sissy seemed to think it was his fault, because she was pointing at him and calling him awful names. He wondered what Mrs. Flagg would have thought if she'd heard her little daughter talking like that.

Miss Honey, their teacher, arrived at once. She shrieked too when she saw the crabs, but she managed to pull them out from the girl's hair. Then she proceeded to calm down the hysterical girl, but Sissy didn't want to be calmed down.

'He did it! Potter did it!'

When Miss Honey turned to glare at him menacingly, Harry knew he was in deep trouble.

* * *

The transformation took longer than he'd expected. Lately, his transformations were becoming slower and more difficult. _Maybe because I don't want to change back_.

But he had to, in order to keep his sanity. Every now and then, he changed back to his human form and stretched out his muscles. Otherwise, they would contract and will no longer work when he finally needed them and the same would happen to his mind. The thing was that when he was in his animal form, he no longer used his human mind, at least not completely. He was guided mostly by instinct, and he wasn't capable to think in a rational way. So, in order to keep that capability working, he had to transform every now and then.

It was hard, of course. It was essential that there was nobody home, so he wouldn't be discovered. The problem was that house was _never_ empty. There were always at least a couple of noisy children wandering around the house, and he was especially terrified of the twins, who used to sneak into Percy's room to play him tricks or just to bother him.

Today, however, the whole family had gone to some festival and Mrs. Weasley had forbidden his son to bring his rat along. Although he'd normally have welcomed the chance to get out of the house, he was glad of this, because he'd have the house for himself and he'd be able to transform. It had been a month since the last time, though it was hard to keep track of time when you had the intelligence of a rat.

He shut the curtains close, even though he knew no one would be able to see him. The Weasleys didn't have close neighbours, as they lived in a _Muggle_ village. He preferred the darkness, anyway. It was easier when he wasn't able to see himself. Less painful.

He didn't remember when the last time he'd dared to look himself at the mirror had been, but he certainly remembered he hadn't liked what he'd seen. Most of his hair was gone, even when he was just in his twenties, and his skin was yellowish and dirty. But his eyes, oh, the worst thing were his eyes. So empty, so dead.

So remorseful.

_Yeah, well_, an annoying voice (awfully alike to his mother's) echoed in his head_, if you're feeling so badly, why don't you turn yourself into? Why don't you stop hiding like the rat you are and you confess what you did?_

'And go to Azkaban? _Never_.'

Talking to your head: first sign of madness. He shrugged. He couldn't care less. Actually, it'd be a good thing if he lost his mind. At least, that way the memories wouldn't haunt him…

James. Lily. Baby Harry. Sirius. Remus. Those _Muggles_… all victims, all victims of his cowardice, of his power-hunger. He had wanted so badly to be someone, someone remotely important. He had always been no one. He had always been ignored.

_And look what you have now. The few people who gave a damn for you are now dead or in jail, and you have become an eight-year-old boy's rat pet. You couldn't be more pathetic._

Peter Pettigrew sighed and hid his head between his knees. If he could only take all he had done back…

_You wouldn't, because you're a coward._

'Fine, I am a coward. So what? It's not like I can do something to help it, you know!'

For once, his mother's voice was speechless.

* * *

Villagers didn't speak her language, but it didn't matter. Centuries of travelling around the world had taught her many languages, and also to communicate when she didn't know what the other people were talking.

However, it wasn't easy for her to get what she wanted from these people, as they didn't want to have anything to do with her. At first, she had thought it was because she was foreign, as her looks indicated, but then she realised that the villagers feared her because they knew what she was. In fact, many persons who crossed her path murmured weird words under their breath and did odd gestures with their hands, as if they were trying to cast some spell to send her away.

A woman hissed to another something in a dialect she recognized. She couldn't hear it all, but she heard something that translated into English would be _'nightwalkers are among us'_. The vampire ran to her, glad that finally she found someone who talked in a language she could understand. However, both women ran away and hid in a near hut.

Desperate, she shouted in their language:

'Please, listen to me! I've come to do you no harm. I just want to know where the wish-granter lives!'

No one answered to her pleas, and she had started to think she'd have to take stronger measures, when a boy no older than twelve approached her. He didn't spoke a word, but he made her a gesture so she would follow him. She did so, and soon they were out of the village, walking down a precarious road.

They walked for what it seemed hours, and it occurred to her that it could be a trick. No, Spike wouldn't trick her. There was a time when he might have felt tempted to do so, but not now. Her desperation was something that hit him too close to home.

At last, they reached a cave. The boy stopped and turned to look at her. He whispered in his language, and amazingly enough she understood every single word.

'_This is the wish-granter home. However, I must warn you, nightwalker: there will be a price for any wish you ask, and this price might be more than you can afford. Wise people stay away from the wish-granter'_

She wanted to ask him who he was, but he vanished. She blinked. What the…? She shrugged. She had no time for this.

Taking a long, unnecessary breath, she stepped into the welcoming darkness.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge hated to visit the magical prison of Azkaban and he tried to avoid it as much as he could, but this time he had had no other choice. Millicent Bagnold, the Minister of Magic herself, had asked him to take her place in the annual inspection at Azkaban, as a major problem with Gringott's goblins needed all her attention right now.

So here he was now, following a Dementor (despicable creatures, but sometimes you had to ally with those you didn't want in the search of the greater good) and checking if everything was according to the rules. Mrs. Bagnold gave it a lot of importance to these inspections, and she hadn't gone herself only because there was an emergency. She always checked and double-checked that all the security measures were strictly followed and that prisoners weren't treated too badly. Of course, the former was much more important to her, and also to Fudge. After all, the people in there had done terrible things, and it was much more urgent to keep the magical folk's security rather than ensure a bunch of evildoers' welfare.

Now they were reaching the worst part of Azkaban: this was the area where the most dangerous criminals spent their days and nights, constantly watched by Dementors. Fudge repressed a shiver. If it was so bad for him to stand Dementors for a few hours, how did these men and women stand the presence of these creatures day and night?

The answer was simple: they didn't. They started to lose their minds until they were completely insane, and if they were lucky with no memories of their past. But few were that lucky. Most prisoners kept remembering the worst moments of their lives until they stopped eating and let themselves die. Which wasn't a loss, at least in the Minister's eyes. Actually, she thought it was a great thing: this way, there were fewer and fewer prisoners to take care of so their task was easier to accomplish.

However, it never stopped to amaze Fudge that the worst criminals were the ones who seemed less affected by Dementors, possibly because they didn't have such a thing as a conscience to worry about.

Let's take Sirius Black's case, for instance. He had killed thirteen people with a single spell and betrayed his two best friends to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so he had a lot to be ashamed of. However, he looked quite unaffected for any of these or for the Dementors's charm. As a matter of fact, he sounded so cool and calmed when he talked, as if he and Fudge were drinking firewhisky at the Leaky Cauldron instead of talking through his cell bars.

'Good morning, or has midday already passed? It's a little hard to tell from here, as this cell has no windows.' He grimaced. 'But I can't complain, can I? At least I've got company…even though they aren't very talkative.'

He pointed at the Dementors, who didn't react, of course. Fudge, on the other hand, was gaping, incredulity in every line of his face. Black didn't seem bothered by this at all.

'So how are you, Mr. Fudge? It was Fudge, right?'

The poor man shot a desperate glance at the closest Dementor, trying to decide whether he should answer to a convicted criminal or just ignore him. However, Black was right in one thing: Dementors weren't talkative, so Fudge had to face the prisoner again.

'Fine, Black,' he replied shortly. He hoped the disdain in his voice was evident enough to prevent Black from doing more inappropriate questions. Unfortunately, the young man didn't seem impressed at all.

'I was wondering, Mr. Fudge, if you had already finished reading the Prophet. You can't imagine how much I miss the crosswords…'

* * *

'Are you sure about this, vampire? Are you aware that what you are asking me could destroy you?'

Darla looked up. All she saw was a couple of enormous electrical blue eyes, as her sight was blurred with the blood that poured from the large cut on her forehead. She could barely keep herself standing up, but she had never been weak and she wasn't going to start now. She straightened her head and blinked so the blood wouldn't enter in her eyes.

Was she sure about what she wanted? Well, it was quite a dumb question to ask after all she had gone through to get it. There was only one possible answer.

'I have never been so sure about anything in four hundred years.'

There was a heavy silence, and she felt her knees failing her. In that moment, the guttural voice spoke again:

'As you wish, vampire. Your soul will be given back to you.'

And then an unbearable pain filled her body, and all she could see was whiteness.

* * *

**Conangse**: Sorry for not updating, but is conspiring against me or somwthing, 'cause it didn't let me update until now using God knows what lame excuse. Anyway, I'll stop the whinning. Thanks so much for rewieving! Please, tell me what you think about this chapter. Good luck! 


	6. Chapter 5

Thanks to Conangse, for reviewing, and to Joy, for improving my fic.

* * *

**Chapter Five: A matter of trust**

Two months had passed since Connor had first set foot in Hogwarts and he had become quite fond of the place. At first he hadn't liked it at all, with the magic stuff and all. Besides, back then he had wanted to go back to Pylea and resume his old life with Daniel and Justine.

However, now that he knew that magic wasn't that bad (and that Daniel was no longer alive), he thought that the castle was a great place. It was enormous, so there was always something new to see and investigate; there were ghosts that remembered the times when all the stories Daniel taught him had taken place; and there were loads of food, always a silver lining. On the other hand, the grounds and hills reminded him of Pylea, and he could play with Fang, watch Hagrid while he did his chores, or play chess with Professor Snape (even though Connor wasn't very good at it yet). And, of course, there were the students.

Connor enjoyed watching them chatting and laughing from afar. He had never seen so many people of that age, and he was curious about them, what they talked about and why they laughed so much. He wished he could get closer and watch them more carefully, maybe when they were flying those broomsticks, but he had been told not to and he obeyed, even though he didn't like it.

In spite of all the measures taken, some pupils had started to get curious about the five-year-old boy who stayed at Hogwarts. He was far too young to attend classes, and they weren't aware of any teacher who had a child. Some of them started to ask questions and to make up rumors, until Dumbledore decided to put it an end and announced that Connor was one of his friends' son. That stopped all the interest in Connor, even though a few students still tried to talk to him and Nymphadora Tonks, for instance, used to wave a hand at him when she saw him. He always waved back, wondering whether she had improved at Potions-making. He didn't dare to ask her, but as he saw her with her broomstick he guessed she had.

In short, Connor was having quite a pleasant time at Hogwarts. The nightmares had almost stopped, and he was so busy most of the time that he didn't miss Daniel and Justine or the company of someone of his own age at all. However, the castle wasn't the appropriate place to raise a child his age, and he needed more than the school could provide him, so even though it pained him to do so, Professor Dumbledore sent an owl to the United States. A couple of days after that, Professor McGonagall called Connor and told him he was expected in the Headmaster's office.

Connor had been very busy helping Hagrid to fix a fence and he didn't welcome the interruption, but something in McGonagall's voice told him it was important so he said goodbye to Hagrid with a little frown on his face. Usually when people talked to Connor in that tone of voice, it was because something bad was going to happen, and he sensed this time wouldn't be different. He wasn't wrong.

When he entered Dumbledore's office, he found it was pretty crowded. Apart from the Headmaster, Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape were there, and also three people Connor thought he wouldn't see ever again: Wesley, Fred and Gunn. He froze at the doorstep. What were they doing there? He shot a quizzical look at Snape, who gave a tiny shrug. This wasn't good.

'Connor, please, take a seat.' He did as he was told but the frown deepened. Everyone was staring at him, and he didn't like to be stared at.

'So, Connor, how have you been?' Wesley asked, trying his best to sound relaxed and failing miserably. The boy looked at him, expressionless, and replied with a short 'Fine'. Fred and Gunn exchanged desperate looks. Obviously, Connor wasn't glad to see them again. How were they going to tell him they wanted to take him back to the States? He didn't even want to _look_ at them. It wasn't necessary to say nothing, though, as Connor realised that by himself.

'You've come to take me back, haven't you?' His voice was still flat, but at least he was talking to them and not trying to attack them, which was always a plus.

'Yes, Connor,' Fred answered, happy that it was going to be so easy. 'We have come to take you home, in LA, now that you…'

'I don't want to.'

'…can control your…What?' Fred blurted out, taken aback. Wesley and Gunn, however, had already seen that coming.

'Why not, Connor?' Wesley asked politely. The boy stared at him, while he thought of the answer. There were a large number of reasons, but he decided to voice the most important one.

'I like it here.'

Wesley was beginning to look a little desperate himself and Professor Dumbledore decided to intervene.

'Connor, your presence here was supposed to be just temporary, you see. Hogwarts is not a place for raising children.'

'But it's a school!'

'Yes, but it's a secondary school, meant for children _above_ eleven years old,' he patiently explained. 'Besides, teachers here are too busy to take care of you properly, and you need to go to school with kids your age. You can't do that here.'

Everything Professor Dumbledore was saying sounded very reasonable to Connor. The problem was that Connor didn't want to be reasonable right now.

'I don't want to go back,' he hissed. 'I don't want to go back with _them_!'

Fred, Gunn and Wesley jumped in their seats as if they had been slapped. Connor might have accepted magic, but he clearly hadn't accepted them. Wesley felt a pang of guilt. Had they treated him so badly?

_Of course not, but he still associates you with the loss of Holtz. He needs some time_.

Wesley was willing to give him some time, but Connor was the one who wasn't willing to give anyone time. His frown was so deep that it was almost worrying, and his eyes were flashing with anger, which was never a good sign. Seeing this, Professor McGonagall hurried to suggest that Connor might need to get out of the office for a little while, and before anyone could complain she had taken the child's hand and exited the room.

'I'm afraid Professor McGonagall is right and we all need to calm ourselves down before deciding anything,' Dumbledore said, and an alarm sounded in Fred's head. Decide? There was nothing to decide. Connor was going back with them, wasn't he? 'Filius, why don't you take our guests to your office and offer them a cup of tea?'

The tiny teacher nodded and asked the group to follow him. Reluctantly, they did so, leaving Snape and the Headmaster alone.

The Potions Master had a very interesting expression on his face. For someone who didn't know him well, it could have seemed he was indifferent at what was going on. But his eyes told otherwise. And as soon as the door closed and their visitors couldn't hear them, he voiced his opinion out loud.

'Albus, you can't let these people take him away,' he snapped. Dumbledore found it a little amusing that the man who had refused to take care of Connor merely two months ago was the same one who didn't want to let the boy go. However, his amusement soon faded and he sighed. He didn't want to admit it, but Snape might have been right. Clearly Connor didn't want to go anywhere with them.

'They're the closest thing to a family he has. They were his father's best friends.'

'And his father was a vampire who killed thousands! Albus, you can't be serious!'

'Angel had changed a lot since he had been cursed, Severus. He wasn't evil anymore.'

Snape snorted. Yeah, sure. And he was going to meet a Heliopath any time soon.

'Anyway, we don't have another option. Connor has nowhere else to go. Unless you want to send him to an orphanage.' Snape repressed a shudder. No, sending a child like Connor to one of those places was a really bad idea. 'And we can't send him to a foster home. Honestly, no foster family would accept him, as they prefer younger and trouble-free children, and even if they did, we can't take the chance that he might end up with an awful family. Connor has gone through a lot already.'

There was too much truth in this to ignore, but Snape still didn't like the idea of Connor living with those _Muggles_. They'd never understand him at all! And they didn't appear to be that reliable, either.

'There must be another option, Albus. Connor doesn't even want to go with them, and they don't look like they have the slightest idea of raising children. And their lifestyle…They'd put Connor in great danger if they took him.'

'Connor is already in great danger…but yes, I'm afraid you might be right. It doesn't seem a good idea let them take him. However, we don't have another option. Unless…'

Snape eyed Dumbledore's expression, impatient.

'Unless what?'

Dumbledore stared at the younger man quizzically. It was the first time he saw Snape so concerned about someone else. He seemed to have grown quite fond of the child in spite of himself. Maybe…

'Unless one of us could take care of him.'

Snape considered it, but he still had his doubts.

'Like who?'

'Well, it could be Madam Pomfrey, she knows how to handle children…'

The younger teacher shook his head.

'Connor doesn't like her that much. Besides, she's too busy.'

'True. What about Filius?'

Snape repressed a sneer.

'Connor thinks he's boring. He wouldn't respect him.'

'Right. And Minerva and I…well, we are both too old.' Snape, this time, at least had the decency not to say anything. 'So the only option left is you.'

Dumbledore's words took a moment to sink in. He didn't have to wait long for Snape´s reaction.

'What! _Me?_ Are you talking seriously? I can't take care of a child!'

Dumbledore remained calm.

'Why not, Severus? You seem to be doing quite well so far, as you're the only one who Connor trusts. I think he wouldn't mind living with you.'

_Yeah, but what about me? I do mind!_

'But, but…I'm too busy! With the classes, and everything! I don't have time for a child!'

Dumbledore decided this would require more patience than he'd first thought.

'Arrangements can be made. We can modify your schedule, so you'd only have to come to school in the mornings, and in the afternoons you could return to your house in Hogsmeade. I think it is big enough for two people.'

Snape realised his mouth had fallen open and he closed it. He couldn't believe it. Dumbledore wanted _him_ to take care of a five-year-old kid! Had he gone mad?

'Headmaster, with all due respect, I am not…I'm not the type of person who can raise a child. I don't have the patience and I'm not fond of children at all…'

'No, it's true you aren't fond of children. But Connor isn't an average kid, is he?'

Had Dumbledore read his mind? Well, it was possible. Not _reading his mind_ (only _Muggles_ talked like that) but using Legilmenccy on him. He shook his head. Right now, it didn't matter.

'But I don't now how to raise a child, Headmaster,' he protested. Dumbledore seemed unaffected.

'None of us does, Severus, until we try it.'

_Well, why don't _you_ try it?_

In that moment, a knock was heard. It was Professor McGonagall, still holding Connor's hand. The boy looked much calmer now.

'Well, I think it's time to make a decision,' Dumbledore said. 'I'll send a message to Filius for Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, Mr. Gunn and Miss Burkle join us.'

And so he did, before Snape could protest again.

* * *

The Burrow was a pandemonium. The Healer who had treated Ron and Ginny had strongly advised Mrs. Weasley to take both children away so they'd be able to make a full recovery. The Healer said it was because the children needed a change of scenery, but Mrs. Weasley suspected that the Healer wanted the children to be away from all the noise of the house.

So Mrs. Weasley had gone to her cousin's cottage at the coast with her two youngest kids, and had left her family on their own. Well, not exactly on their own, as Mr. Weasley's aunt had agreed to stay a couple of weeks and take care of the children. But Elvira Weasley was an old lady, and even though she loved the boys she didn't know how to handle them very well. With Percy she didn't have any trouble as he was a peaceful sort of kid, but the twins were another story.

So when things really seemed to be getting out of control, Mr. Weasley thought that his sons needed some kind of distraction and decided they'd resume their lessons, which had been interrupted when their younger siblings had got sick. However, he was too busy to do so and Aunt Elvira had her hands full, so he decided to hire someone.

And that was why Remus Lupin was there, to teach the three boys until their mother came back. It wasn't exactly a well-paid job but by that moment Remus was desperate enough to accept anything, whether it was good or not. And the kids weren't that bad. Soon he found out the way to keep Fred and George more or less calm, and Percy was always anxious to learn new things, so it wasn't a hard task.

This was the third time he'd gone to The Burrow, and now that the children knew him things were much easier. At least they didn't try to play tricks on him anymore. Remus grinned. The twins reminded him so much of…well, it didn't matter.

He proceeded to correct Percy's composition, while his brothers were busy doing a few simple math problems. In that moment, something caught his attention. On his left, lying on a pile of dusty books, there was a gray rat. A rat that looked too familiar.

Noticing his interest, Percy hurried to explain:

'That's my rat, Scabbers. I found it three years ago, poor thing. It was hurt and one of its fingers was missing. Now it's asleep…well, actually, most of the time it's asleep. Unless it's eating. Scabbers loves coffee toffees.'

It took Remus a moment to digest all the information. He blinked. It was impossible. He was dead, there were witnesses and all. This was just some common rat that Percy had adopted, nothing else.

Not altogether reassured, he kept correcting Percy's composition, but all the time his mind was thinking of an old friend who used to be very lazy and loved coffee toffees.

* * *

There was a tense atmosphere in Dumbledore's office. Everyone was expectant, wondering what was going to happen next. Connor was staring at his knees, looking like someone who was going to be executed. Wesley felt guiltier than ever.

'Well,' Dumbledore said calmly, 'I think there is a decision to be made. And I believe – and I'm sure you all will agree – that Connor is the one who has to make it.'

There were some stunned looks, but no one dared to contradict him and Wesley gave a tiny nod. Connor, on the other hand, looked up, his eyes shinning with hope.

'Can I? Can I decide where to stay?'

'Yes, Connor, you can.' Dumbledore noticed the boy's eagerness and repressed a smile, but he didn't want to place on his young shoulders such a heavy burden so he added: 'However, I want to remind you that this arrangement doesn't have to last forever, in case you regret your decision. Is that clear? '

The boy nodded, but now he looked a little uncertain. He shot a nervous glance at his father's friends and then looked back to Dumbledore. Then, he said something so lowly that no one heard him.

'I beg your pardon, Connor? I'm afraid I haven't heard you.' The Headmaster smiled at him benevolently and this time he spoke louder.

'No one is going to be angry with me if I don't…if I don't choose what they want?'

'Of course not, Connor. You're free to decide whatever you think is good for you.' This time it wasn't Dumbledore, but Wesley, who smiled at him. Connor suddenly felt grateful towards him, and for a moment he hesitated. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad living with them, after all. They _were_ nice people, even though he disagreed with them on many counts. But then he remembered the green guy, the two times he had been nearly killed by demons, LA's smog and the way that people talked there. He didn't like it. They spoke funny. And in LA the hills were too far away and they were covered with buildings, and there weren't green fields, just small and ruined parks. No, he didn't like it there.

'I can choose to stay with whoever I want?'

Dumbledore nodded and Connor's gaze fell on every occupant of the room, one by a time. After a few minutes of silence, the child said the words that would seal his fate:

'I prefer to stay with Professor Snape.'

And the Potions Master had to suppress a groan.

* * *

'Visitor.'

Sirius Black straightened his head. He tried to stand up, but his knees wouldn't support him. A visitor? Who the hell would visit him? No one had came to see him in three years, no one wanted to know what he had to say. He was very aware of that after all the people he'd trusted had turned their backs on him. Not that he could blame them, all evidence was against him, however…however he wished that someone, _anyone_, would have listened to his story at least once. No one had.

It took him a moment to recognize the person who was standing in front of him. There were many lines around his eyes and gray streaks in his hair that hadn't been there three years ago, and he was thin, too thin. But the worst were his eyes, so hollow and…old. No, this couldn't be…

'Is…is it you, Moony?'

Remus Lupin didn't answer. His gaze wandered around the walls and bars surrounding them, then fell on his former classmate and friend.

'Sirius'. His voice was flat and emotionless, but he saw something in his eyes that scared him. And after three years in Azkaban he wasn't an easy one to freak out. What Remus said next, however, just stunned him.

'So, would you tell me again that mad story about Peter being the traitor? I think I need to hear it one more time. I promise that this time I won't leave until you are finished.'

He didn't know what had made his friend change his mind, but he wasn't going to waste this chance to tell the truth. So he cleared his throat and words came out from his mouth, forming a tale of friendship, betrayal and death…the tale of their lives.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: From Murderer to Martyr**

The magical world was in turmoil as the Ministry of Magic gave the shocking news. Most people didn't believe what they read in _The Daily Prophet_ until Millicent Bagnold confirmed it herself at a press conference. It was unbelievable.

The Ministry of Magic (with the aid of an eight-year-old, nevertheless) had found a man who was supposed to have died three years ago, and not any man. It was Peter Pettigrew, who was said to have been murdered by Sirius Black along with twelve innocent _Muggles_ after the Dark Lord's downfall.

He had been found in his Animagus form, asleep (on his parents' orders, Percy had given him a special coffee toffee to make sure of that) and taken to Azkaban, before he could transform and escape, to a special cell. There he had confessed committing the crimes for which Sirius Black had been sent to Azkaban under the effects of Veritaserum, a truth potion recently discovered.

(The story wasn't so detailed at the Prophet. The name of the Wizarding family who had been unknowingly hosting Pettigrew wasn't mentioned, and neither was mentioned which was his Animagus form. The Ministry had feared that it would only cause panic, as Pettigrew could be confused with any normal rat).

Everyone had been shocked to find out what a terrible mistake they had done (and several wanted Bartemius Crouch's head, as he had been the one who'd sent Black to jail without a trial) and the Ministry hurried to correct it.

After announcing to the magical world what had happened, Sirius Black received a formal apology, which he was forced to accept, along with a large sum of money and his freedom (which was way more welcomed). Suddenly, he was no longer a psycho murderer in magical folk's eyes, who were horrified at the hideous way he'd been treated. Actually, soon Sirius found that not only they no longer saw him as a criminal, but he seemed to have turned into some kind of martyr. A little too popular of one.

Reporters stalked him, wanting to listen to the story first hand, and asking how his life in Azkaban had been and whether he was resentful of the Ministry. Sirius avoided them all, even though there was one that was eespecially hard to do so (her name was Skeeter or something) so Sirius ended up hiding at Remus' place.

There he was a sunny autumn afternoon along with his friend and Professor Dumbledore, a couple of weeks after his release had taken place, when he was finally told how everything had come to pass.

After Remus had heard Sirius's story, he'd gone straight to Dumbledore and had told him everything, including the part about how his friends had turned into illegal Animagus because of him. Dumbledore had listened attentively, and not only was he not mad at him but he had also believed every word. He told Remus they had to act with caution and not to give Peter any reason to escape.

The first step was to get evidence, which they did with the Weasley's help (Dumbledore explained to them the situation personally) and then he talked to the Minister. She had been skeptical at first, but she had always had a good opinion of Dumbledore so she agreed to cooperate. The rest was history.

'So, where's Harry? Who's taking care of him?'

Dumbledore and Remus exchanged somber looks. They sensed that Sirius wasn't going to like the answer. And he didn't.

'_What_? You've left him with Lily's relatives? But they hated her! They hated anything magical. They'll never accept Harry's nature.'

Dumbledore explained that after James' and Lily's death there hadn't been many options, and plus he'd thought that it'd be better if Harry grew up away from all that attention. Sirius shook his head.

'Well, now I've got my freedom back and I can take care of him. I'm his legal guardian and godfather. I think it'd be for the best.'

But Dumbledore shook his head.

'I think it'd be better if we leave Harry where he is now, at least until things calm down.'

'But…'

The Headmaster left before he could keep complaining and the argument was over. _By now_, Sirius thought frowning. He wouldn't leave things like that. He owed James and Lily that much.

* * *

In spite of all the notoriety that Black's story got, there was one wizard who wasn't aware of what was going on. Which was a surprising fact, as he had known Sirius Black personally and had a personal interest in what happened to him. Or that had been before his whole life turned upside down.

That wizard was Severus Snape, whose mind was a little distracted by the fact he'd become a foster father to a five-year-old child, whom he'd known for only two months. Hell, he hadn't even met the child's parents in his life (which, if the rumors were true, was probably a good thing).

However, here he was, taking care of Connor Angel, who had moved into his house as soon as he had prepared a room for him. At first, Snape had been at a loss when he had to decorate Connor's room (which had formerly been a creepy and quite useless guestroom). Finally he'd let Connor decide how he wanted it to be decorated. The boy had chosen sky blue paint for the walls but then had insisted that the furniture had to be orange. The teacher had tried to explain to him that those colours didn't go together but then decided that it was up to Connor. Anyway, the boy realised his mistake and the furniture was magically changed to a more appropriate shade of green, much to Snape's satisfaction, as green was one of his favourite colours.

There were shelves on the walls with some children's books on them, a couple of Quidditch posters, and many pictures featuring different magical creatures that Hagrid had given to him, along with a blanket which had a huge dragon on it. It worried Snape a little the growing interest Connor was showing for wild and extremely dangerous creatures. Maybe the Key Keeper wasn't such a good influence, after all.

When Connor approved his room at last, he moved in with the few things he possessed and Snape realised he'd have to buy the child a lot of things, especially clothes. So that weekend he decided to take Connor to Diagon Alley and start the shopping.

Connor was both fascinated and startled at the place. He'd never seen so many wizards and witches together, and even though he'd learned he didn't have to be afraid of them, he clutched Snape's hand tightly. The man wasn't bothered by this. In fact, it made things much more simple. He'd been afraid that keeping an eye on Connor would be much more difficult, as he wasn't a child who could stay still for a long time.

However, even though Connor was watching everything with eyes wide open, he was very careful not to lose Severus (the Potions Master had asked him to call him that) from his sight. He didn't want to get lost in that place, although he thought he'd probably be able to find him by the smell. Connor was very good at tracking smells, which had been useful when he'd lived in Pylea and had to hunt his dinner.

The first shop they went to was Madam Malkin's to get Connor some proper robes. The shop assistant was attending with a man whose child, a corpulent nine-year-old boy, was complaining because he wasn't getting some Hogwarts robes.

'You don't have to wear them yet, Marcus. You're still too young.'

The child pouted as Connor watched him curiously. The older boy noticed this and glared at him but Connor was quite unimpressed. He'd certainly seen much scarier things than a spoiled brat.

Father and son left the shop, and Madam Malkin approached them. She looked a little taken aback when she saw Connor, as she'd known Snape for years and she wasn't aware he had a child.

'Oh, you've came with your little son. Hello, young man. What's your name?'

The child's eyes flickered to Snape before answering.

'I'm Connor. And I'm not his son, madam.'

'He's my…hum, nephew,' Snape hurried to explain. The woman looked a bit startled, but she composed herself and smiled. Then, once Snape had stated what they were looking for, the witch took the boy to take his measurements.

Dumbledore and Snape had agreed that it was convenient to make up a plausible story that explained Connor's presence at his house. They certainly couldn't say that Snape had never seen the boy before and that he was the offspring of two vampires. It would be a little unconvenient. Finally they had come out with a solution.

There was a branch of the Snape's family tree that had produced a couple of _squibs_ many decades ago. Being the snobbish pureblooded family they were, they had disowned them. Those _squibs _had married each other, which was even worse in their relatives' eyes, and then their descendants had married to _Muggles_. Snape had never met any of those distant relatives, and he was pretty sure that neither his father nor his grandfather had, or anyone from the magical branch of the family.

All Snape had to say was that Connor belonged to that branch of his family and since he had turned out to be a wizard, Snape had accepted to take care of him after his father's death. It was quite a simple story, very hard to disprove as these Snapes had been long ago erased from the family tree and they had never been in touch with their magical relatives. It was possible that they didn't even know they had those magical relatives anymore.

To his surprise, Madam Malkin wasn't the only one who thought that he was Connor's father. In fact, every shop assistant (including those who knew him very well) was convinced that the boy was his son. After a while, Snape was bored of explaining that Connor wasn't his child and gave up. _Let them think whatever they want_. Which surprised him was that there were people capable of thinking that he and Connor were father and son when they were so physically different. They hadn't one single thing in common, apart from the fact Snape didn't look like the fatherly type, and yet people believed they were a family. How strange.

After having an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, Connor and Snape started their way to the Leaky Cauldron, from where they'd go home, when they ran into one of his old 'friends'. Someone who wasn't exactly the kind of person Snape would have liked to see with a _Muggleborn_ child: Lucius Malfoy.

'Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me, or this is Severus Snape with a child?'

Snape forced a smile, keeping his eyes unreadable.

'Oh, hello Lucius. How have you been?'

'Fine, thanks. He's not yours, right?'

_Finally_ someone smart enough to notice that.

'No, Connor's just a distant relative. Connor, this is Lucius Malfoy.'

'Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy.'

Connor extended his hand formally and Lucius shook it, a slightly amused hint in his gray eyes. _He must find the situation as ridiculous as I do_. Then, the man asked jovially how old Connor was. Snape was surprised to see Lucius acting like that, then he remembered that he had a small child too. Probably he was more used to dealing with children than Snape was…a fact he found quite ironic.

'I'm five years old, sir.'

'Really? I have a son about your age. He's turned four recently. His name is Draco.'

Thank God Connor didn't laugh, but asked, sounding interested:

'Draco? Does it have something to do with dragons?'

'Well, yes. It's dragon in Latin.'

'Oh, I like dragons. I've never seen one, of course, but they are beautiful.'

Lucius chuckled.

'Be careful with this one, Severus. Watch out what he brings home as a pet. Last week, Draco wanted to adopt an augurey. Only Merlin knows where he got that silly idea.'

Snape suddenly felt uneasy. He hadn't thought that Connor would probably want to have a pet. Oh, great. As if taking care of a child wasn't hard enough.

Lucius Malfoy and Snape talked for some minutes about people they knew while Connor examined a Quidditch shop. At last Malfoy said he had to leave, but he talked one last time to Connor:

'You know, you can ask Severus to bring you to my mansion some time, so you can meet Draco. Would you like that?'

Connor nodded politely, even though he wasn't sure whether he'd like it or not. He hadn't met any children his own age yet, and he wondered what it'd be like.

On the other hand, Snape made a mental note: Connor would need some playmates. Merlin, this was getting much more complicated than he'd first thought…

* * *

Three or four days after Mrs. Bagnold had proclaimed Sirius Black's innocence, and a week after Connor had moved in with Snape, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Dumbledore were discussing the matter at the latter's office. Suddenly, Flitwick asked if any of them knew how Snape had reacted to the news. It wasn't probable he'd be too happy – he and Black had hated each other since they both had set foot in Hogwarts.

'No, I don't have a clue', Dumbledore admitted. 'I haven't had the chance to talk with him about it – he's so busy now, you know. And as we no longer share meals with him, there's not a lot of time to chat.'

The other two nodded. Now that Snape was taking care of Connor, his schedule had been modified so he'd come right after breakfast and he'd leave before lunch, only coming back in the afternoons twice a week. A friend of Madam Pomfrey, Mrs. Frobisher, looked after Connor while Snape was at Hogwarts. The rest of the time, though, it was the Potions Master who had to look after the boy, so he didn't have much time.

'I can go and check on him this afternoon,' Professor McGonagall said. 'I have to go to Hogsmeade anyway.'

'That'd be nice, Minerva. Also, you can see how, hum, he and Connor are adapting to their new situation.'

In other words, Professor Dumbledore was asking her to check whether Snape and Connor were trying to kill each other. The witch nodded, repressing a smirk. It'd be interesting to see how Snape was doing as a surrogate father.

* * *

When she arrived at Snape's place, she noticed he wasn't in his best mood. There were bags under his eyes and he looked really tired. However, he forced himself to be polite (well, as polite as he'd ever been with her) and let her in.

She went to say hi to Connor first, who was at the kitchen staring glumly at the plate in front of him, full of fish and vegetables.

'You can sit at the living room while I prepare you a cup of tea', Snape told her. He turned to Connor 'And you'd better eat. Including the fish.'

There was a frown on Connor's face and for a moment she thought he was going to complain, but instead he took his fork and began to eat the vegetables. He didn't look too happy about it.

Once they were both at the living room, drinking their respective cups of tea, McGonagall asked him how he was doing. Snape shrugged.

'It could be worse. But he's awfully stubborn, and I can't understand what's his problem with food. At Hogwarts he'd eat anything we gave him, but now he doesn't want to eat fish, and he has to eat it, everyone says fish is good for children, and…'

Professor McGonagall blinked.

'Er, Severus? I was asking about what happened with Sirius Black.' Seeing his puzzled look, she added, 'Haven't you read the Prophet lately?'

Snape shrugged.

'No, I've been too busy with…'

'Severus, I've finished eating,' came Connor's voice from the kitchen. 'May I go?'

'First put the plate at the sink,' He looked at McGonagall. 'What were you saying?'

She took a great gulp of air. _Here we go_…

'He is innocent, Severus. The Ministry of Magic has just found out that he didn't commit all those crimes…'

'Really?', he said, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. 'Wait a moment.' There was a frown on his face now. 'How did he finish eating so fast? No one can eat that fast, not even him.'

It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about. Before she could say something else, Snape stood up and walked to the kitchen.

'Connor! What's this? You've only eaten the vegetables.'

'So?'

'So? You were supposed to eat _all_ of it! Now, sit down and eat. You won't be allowed to get up until you are finished. Is that clear?'

Connor mumbled a 'yes' and Snape returned.

'Sorry, Minerva. Now, what did you say?'

She repressed a sigh.

'I was saying that Sirius Black is innocent'.

Snape looked puzzled.

'Innocent of…? Oh, yeah. That. Really? How come?'

McGonagall hid her shock at his lack of reaction.

'The one who committed all those murders was Peter Pettigrew. You remember him, don't you?' Snape nodded and she went on. There was a tense silence now. 'He pretended to be dead, but in fact he was hiding as a rat. He turned out to be an Animagus.'

'I see', he muttered, lost in thought. Everything was silent. Too silent.

Suddenly, he stood up once more.

'Why is everything so silent, he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. 'If Connor were really eating, he'd have to be making some noise.'

He went to the kitchen again and, resigned, she followed him. At the kitchen, Connor was staring at the fish, but he hadn't touched it.

'What's this, Connor?' Snape demanded. The boy looked quite unaffected by his tone, a tone that had made corpulent eighteen-year-old students shiver. 'Why aren't you eating the fish?'

'Because I don't like it.'

Snape folded his arms.

'You don't have to _like_ it, you have to _eat_ it' Then he turned to McGonagall again. 'You were saying?'

'I was trying to tell you that Sirius has got his freedom back.'

Snape stared at her blankly for many seconds.

'Oh,' he managed to say at last, and to McGonagall's shock he absently added 'Good for him.'

The witch's jaw fell open. She couldn't believe her ears. Had Severus Snape just said _'Good for him'_ while talking about Sirius Black? Had the world turned upside down?

Oblivious to her astonishment, Snape turned to look at the child, a frown on his face.

'Connor, if you don't eat the fish, you won't eat anything else. Do you understand?'

'Fine.'

'Fine? How can you say 'fine'? Are you planning to starve to death or what?'

The child shrugged.

'Once I went three days without eating.'

Snape looked like he was about to pull his hair out.

'He's impossible!' he exclaimed. McGonagall almost felt sorry for him.

'Severus, if you let me, I think I can help you. May I have a word with Connor in private?'

Resigned, Snape nodded and left the room. For Merlin's beard, why was Connor so impossible? Every magazine and article he'd read about children (something he'd never, ever admit) said that a healthy nutrition was vital for their development. And fish was one of the healthy things that children had to eat. Why wouldn't Connor eat it, then?

When McGonagall called him, he was astonished to see how Connor was eating the fish, almost enthusiastically. What on Earth…?

Soon, the answer was revealed. Once they were alone again, she confessed performing a charm on the fish so it'd taste like chocolate, but it'd still keep its nutritional conditions.

'But Minerva!' he protested 'He has to learn to eat things that are good for his health, not just what he likes.'

'It's true, Severus' she admitted, but he saw the hint of a smile on her face. 'But Rome wasn't built in one single day.'

He eyed her with a frown on his face.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I'm saying that, no matter what some articles might say, children learn things one by one. And sometimes, what works for one child doesn't work for another one.'

His eyes widened. How had she known about…? Then he noticed he'd left one of those damned and useless magazines on a chair. Damn it.

'You have to give Connor some time, Severus. He won't learn everything you want to teach him in one day. You have to be patient. Pick your battles.'

'Well,' he snapped 'If you know so much about this stuff, why don't _you_ take care of him?'

A wide smile crossed her face.

'Because he's chosen you.'

After they'd talked a while about some school matters, like the upcoming Quidditch cup (and Connor had showed her all the books Snape had bought him), she got up to leave. When they had reached the door, she was surprised to hear Snape's whisper:

'Minerva, about today…thank you.'

Occasions like these were truly rare, so the witch smiled at her colleague and replied:

'It was nothing, Severus, really.'

They said farewell when Snape called her name again:

'And, Minerva? I think I'll just start reading the Daily Prophet again from now on.'

That evening, when Professor Dumbledore asked McGonagall how Snape was dealing with Sirius's new situation, he was deeply shocked to see how the always serious and severe woman fell on an armchair and burst in laughter.

* * *

Harry Potter ran away from Number Four, Privet Drive, on a chilly night. He had decided he could no longer stay there. Not with _her_ there.

He took the few things he had in his cupboard and put them inside a nylon bag, then he stood very still until he was sure everyone at the house was asleep. He tiptoed to the front door, took one of the keys and opened his way to freedom. He ran before anyone could stop him.

While he was running down the streets with the cool air on his face, he was filled by a feeling of freedom and joy. No one was chasing him, no one was telling him what to do. He was free at last.

In spite of this, soon he realised how dark and cold it was outside. Horrified, he realised he had nowhere to go.

His pace slowed down until he stopped walking. Anxiously, he scanned the shadows surrounding him, which looked very creepy. He was beginning to feel scared.

_You can go back. You aren't so far away_.

No, he'd never do that. It didn't matter how frightening the night looked, he'd never go back to the Dursleys. Especially when the dreadful Aunt Marge was visiting them.

Feeling much more confident, he rose his chin and started to walk again. In that moment, he heard it. Footsteps, right behind him.

He turned around to see the cause of the noise, and his mouth fell open in horror, as his eyes snapped wide open.

A scream was heard in the night (_his_ scream) and then everything turned black.

* * *

Like always, a thousand thanks to Joy Solo for her amazing beta read.


	8. Chapter 7

**Many thanks to Conangse and Jesse, for their reviews, and to Joy, for beta reading.**

**Chapter Seven: Changes**

'Harry? Harry, are you all right?'

The child opened an eye. The big, scary dog that had frightened him was gone, and instead a dark haired man was staring at him.

'I… I think so. Where's…where's the dog?'

The man hesitated.

'Don't worry, Harry. The dog is gone.'

Harry suddenly realised two things. First, he was talking to a complete stranger, something that was absolutely forbidden. Secondly, the complete stranger knew his name.

'How do you know who I am?' he demanded. 'I've never seen you in my life.'

The man chuckled. Harry frowned. He saw no reason to laugh. He had escaped from home, had nearly been attacked by a huge dog, and had tripped and fell, hurting his knees. No, he wasn't amused at all.

The man possibly noticed this because he stopped laughing abruptly. He kneeled in front of Harry, so his face was at the same level. Harry noticed he had nice eyes.

'How could I not recognize you, if you're exactly like your dad?'

Harry blinked, shocked. No one had ever told him about his parents before, and the Dursleys had forbidden him to ask questions about them.

'You knew my dad?' he asked, uncertain. The man smiled.

'Yes, I did. We went to school together. James was a very good friend of mine.' There was a trace of sadness in his eyes now. 'In fact, he made me your godfather.'

'Godfather?' Harry repeated. 'I didn't know I had one. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never mentioned it, but they never talk about my dad and my mum.'

For a moment, the man's eyes flashed with anger and Harry was scared. He took a step backwards, suddenly afraid of this man. What if he was lying? He could even not be his godfather. But then he smiled, and for some reason Harry trusted him. He thought that someone who looked so nice couldn't be a liar.

'Yes, you have one. By the way, my name is Sirius Black.' He shook Harry's tiny hand. 'Now we know each other's names, would you mind telling me what you are doing out so late at night?'

Harry frowned. What if he wanted to take him back to the Dursleys? He didn't want to go back. He didn't think he'd be able to bear it.

'I… I ran away' he said defiantly. 'And I'm not going back.'

There was a frown on Sirius' face.

'Of course you won't, if you don't want to.'

'I don't.'

'But you can't stay in the street either. Hey, I've got an idea. There's a friend of mine who lives nearby – you might know her, she's called Arabella Figg.'

Harry was stunned.

'Does Mrs. Figg have friends? I thought she only liked cats.'

Sirius laughed.

'Well, she likes some people too. What do you say? Will you come with me? I'm sure she'll have something to eat there.'

The tall man offered his hand, and Harry hesitated. He had never been able to trust anyone before.

He looked at Sirius, who was smiling. Harry smiled back, and without a second thought, he took his hand and followed him.

* * *

Snape opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought he was at Hogwarts and he felt relieved – then he heard noises coming from the next room and he knew he was at his place in Hogsmeade.

He closed his eyes. For a minute he had believed this whole thing of him taking care of a child had been just a dream, but then harsh reality hit him. He had become a single parent, and he didn't have a clue how that had happened.

Snape was tempted to keep on sleeping – it was very early yet. Connor always woke up at daybreak, and Snape still had a couple of hours until the time he had to go to Hogwarts…

Suddenly, he remembered that Connor would want his breakfast, and he also remembered when the child had tried to fix his breakfast by himself. He had almost set the kitchen – and the whole house – on fire. No, certainly it wasn't a good idea to leave him alone for long.

With a groan, Snape rose from bed and began to get dressed. He wondered if he'd be able to sleep until a reasonable hour ever again. Probably not, at least until Connor went to Hogwarts. Horrified, he realised that would happen in six years. He groaned again.

When he entered the kitchen, he found Connor already waiting for him, fully dressed and looking completely awake. Snape, who had never been a morning person, wondered how he could do that.

'Morning, Severus'. The child said formally. Snape looked at him. Were all children that formal? He remembered, back when he was a child, he had to be very respectful to his father, though later on he had found out that most children weren't.

'Hello, Connor. Did you sleep well?'

It sounded like an innocent question, but the truth was different. He wanted to know whether he kept having those terrible nightmares. Since he had moved in with him, he had had only one and Snape hoped they might have ceased completely.

Connor understood what he had meant and nodded, as Snape started to fix the breakfast. He wasn't a bad cook, but before he had never worried too much about cooking. During school time, the house elves took care of it, and at holidays he'd fix a sandwich or something and that was it. Now, however, he had to prepare more elaborate meals, which had caused some burns to his hands. He was learning, though, and now he had gained enough practice to fix the breakfast in few minutes. After all, cooking wasn't so different from preparing potions. He could handle it.

What he wasn't sure he could handle that well was dealing with Connor himself. Apart from reading him stories, teaching him to read and playing chess with him, he hadn't a clue of what he was supposed to do with him. His own father had never paid him too much attention, he had always been too busy at work, and his mother…well, his mother used to get sick very often, so he used to spend most of the time on his own. However, he didn't feel it was the right thing to do. The problem was, he didn't know what the right thing to do was. And Connor wasn't a lot of help, either. He was very quiet, as he had been taught to never ask for anything, so Snape had to guess what the child wanted or needed. And most of the time he couldn't guess.

No, what he had to do was to ask advice to someone who knew about these matters. The problem was who. Some of his 'friends' had children, like Lucius Malfoy, but he wasn't sure it'd be a good idea to ask him. Lucius came across like the type of person who left his children's education in nannies's and tutors's hands. And Merlin knew he couldn't afford it.

No, he'd have to find someone who knew about children matters, someone who had raised some children of his own. The problem was he didn't know many people like that. He shrugged. He'd think of someone. There _had_ to be someone capable of lending him a hand, right?

There'd better be, because the prospect of taking care of Connor completely on his own had started to get scary, though Snape would admit that to no living soul.

* * *

'Albus, I won't send him back to the Dursleys, not against his will.'

The old man sighed. He'd never known someone as stubborn as Sirius Black…well, maybe Severus Snape.

'Sirius, I've already explained to you the reasons why I sent Harry there. I was aware of his family attitude towards magic when I took that decision, and I assure you that I considered every possible option before doing so.'

'But things are different now, Albus.'

Dumbledore closed his eyes. He'd forgotten that sometimes talking to him was like talking to a stone wall.

'Things might be different, but that doesn't mean that Harry is no longer in danger. Many of Voldemort's supporters didn't go to Azkaban, and some of them are just awaiting the right time to make their move.'

Sirius folded his arms, his temper slowly rising.

'And what kind of protection can Privet Drive offer him?'

Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, still perfectly calm. He spoke with the same tone he used on overemotional First years.

'You mean apart from all the protection charms I've cast on him, and the people who watch him? Well, being in the _Muggle_ world get Harry less unwanted attention than he would do in the wizarding world, and it makes it easier to protect him.'

'Oh, sure you can protect him from wizards that way… But how do you protect him from the _Muggles_?' Now Sirius's hands were shaking with anger. 'I've seen the marks, Albus, all over his body… He didn't get those marks because he tripped, and you know that. He can't go back. No way. Over my dead body.'

The young man did have a point. At the time, he'd thought that living with his mother's relatives was the best for Harry, but now time had proved him wrong. However, any alternative options had to be studied very, very carefully.

'Albus' Sirius spoke in a soft, almost shy whisper, 'I could… You know that James and Lily… They chose me to be Harry's legal guardian in case…in case something happened to them.' Now his voice was becoming more confident. 'What I'm trying to say is that now it's not necessary to send Harry back to the Dursleys. I _can_ take care of him now.'

There was a long silence, during which Dumbledore avoided looking Sirius in the eye. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he was staring intently at a point in midair.

He knew Sirius would bring up James' and Lily's last will sooner or later, but he had hoped he'd have a little more time to think it over. It was true that Harry's parents had chosen Sirius to take care of their son in case something happened to them, but that had been several months before their death and things had changed since then.

Now, though, there were a lot of other things to contemplate. And he wasn't sure if Sirius Black was the right man to do so. Although he was a man of many exceptional qualities, being thoughtful and reflective wasn't one of them.

_Oh, come on_, said a voice in his head. _If Severus Snape can take care of a small boy, certainly Sirius will._

Maybe, but Severus _was_ the reflective type. In spite of his many flaws, no one would dare to say he was reckless or impulsive.

_But he's not very fond of children. And however, there he is, raising a child who is not his. And he's not doing so badly, is he_?

'Sirius, if Harry goes to live with you, you must know there are a lot of matters to contemplate carefully.' The young man nodded, his eyes suddenly much brighter than Dumbledore had seen them in years. 'Given all the attention you're getting, which could prove to be a disaster for Harry, you'll have to keep yourself out of the wizarding world. By that, I'm saying that you should live as a _Muggle_. Not only that, but you'll probably be unable to keep in touch with most of the magical people you know and you'll have to live anonymously.'

'Albus, after three years in Azkaban, I haven't kept in touch with many people. And I can handle living as aMuggle – I had Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, and I spent many summers at Remus' place, whose mother was a _Muggle_.'

Dumbledore had to repress a smile.

'I'm afraid you'll need more than that to pose as a _Muggle_. Besides, taking care of a small child is a lot of responsibility, and you've always been known as being a little reckless…'

'Albus!' The man exclaimed, indignant. 'I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm sure I can handle taking care of Harry.'

'… and you'll have to be specially cautious, or all my safety spells will be useless' Dumbledore kept on saying, ignoring the interruption. 'Do you really think you'll be able to handle it? Please, think about it, Sirius.'

And so he did. He thought about what Dumbledore had said, and in spite of himself he had to admit the old man was right. He had no experience at raising children, he'd have to live as a Muggle, and due to his childhood he knew very little about their lifestyle. And he'd have to be extremely careful with the people who might want to hurt Harry...which was an awfully long list.

He thought also of Lily and James and how they had sacrificed themselves to save their child… He remembered the loving look on Lily's face every time she saw her son, and James' pride at the sight of Harry… They had wanted the best for their son. He couldn't let them down.

'I've thought about it.' He announced. 'And I think I'm more than ready to take care of him.'

Dumbledore nodded. He hadn't expected less.

'In that case, I will talk to the Dursleys to tell them that, from now on, you'll have the custody of James' and Lily's son.'

Mrs. Figg's voice came from upstairs.

'Albus, you might want to come. Harry's awake.'

* * *

One of Snape's concerns about Connor was his lack of playmates. Actually, Connor had never talked to a child of his own age. He had seen them at Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, but he hadn't dared to approach them.

So Snape decided he had to do something about it, and he remembered Lucius' invitation. Glad he had found a solution, he sent an owl to his friend asking whether Connor and he could pay him a visit so Connor and Draco would meet. Snape was aware that Lucius' son was a year younger than Connor, but he thought it wouldn't make a difference. What worried him a little more was that Draco Malfoy had lived his whole life with toys, games and lots of nannies and tutors, while Connor had had little or none of all that. Would it be possible for two boys who came from so different backgrounds to get along?

Lucius answered that he'd be delighted to receive them, but he was a bit busy at the time so he suggested to put off the visit a couple of days. Snape felt a little disappointed, but on the other hand he was quite busy too, and, after all, a couple of days wouldn't make any difference to Connor. In fact, Connor looked quite indifferent about the whole thing. He had never had someone to play with (or any time to play) so it wasn't something that bothered him at all. However, he couldn't help wondering what this Draco boy would be like. Would he like playing chess, or would he prefer those silly games for children? Connor hoped it wouldn't be the latter, or he'd die of boredom.

It was funny how things worked out, though. In spite of Snape's concerns about Connor's lack of company and his efforts to reverse it, in the end it was the boy himself who found that company, in the least likely place of all.

One morning, when they arrived at Mrs. Frobisher's, they found a stranger sitting on the entrance stairs, but it wasn't just any stranger. It was a girl about Connor's own age, with long, brownish plaits and freckles on her nose. She had what looked like a lollipop in her mouth, and she shot a mildly interested look at Connor and Snape, then she returned her attention to the lollipop. Snape looked a little annoyed, as he was already late for work.

'Hello,' he addressed the girl. 'Is Mrs. Frobisher home?'

The girl stared at him indifferently, and gave a tiny nod. Snape shrugged and said goodbye to Connor.

Both children kept staring at each other, neither of them willing to talk first. Finally, the girl put out the lollipop from her mouth long enough to ask, rather sharply:

'Who are you?'

Connor was a little taken aback by her tone of voice, but he hurried to answer:

'My name is Connor, and I always come here in the mornings, so Mrs. Frobisher can take care of me. What's your name?'

The girl didn't answer at once, as though she were considering whether he deserved a reply or not.

'I'm Vicky. Vicky Frobisher. Olga is my aunt. Do you have an aunt?'

Connor thought it was a very weird question, but he had been taught to be polite.

'No, I don't.'

'Uncles? Do you have uncles or cousins? Any brothers or sisters?' Connor shook his head, and the girl looked a bit surprised. 'I have a brother, and loads of cousins and uncles. Do you even have parents?'

The boy shook his head again. Vicky was a little taken aback, then she added. 'You're an orphan' It wasn't a question, so he didn't reply. 'Like Anne of the Green Gables.'

Connor wondered who Anne of the Green Gables was, but he noticed that now Vicky looked a little more interested in him.

'My dad is working, and my mum is visiting a friend,' she explained, 'so my Auntie Olga is taking care of me today. I'm five years old. How old are you?'

'Five, too.'

'Have you ever played Quidditch?'

Connor shook his head, and explained he'd seen children playing it. Vicky nodded.

'My cousins play it all the time, but they say I'm too young to join. I think they're silly. I'm already five, I'm not a little girl any more.'

Before Connor had time to think of an answer, the door opened and Mrs. Frobisher came out. She smiled at Connor.

'Hi there, young man. I see you've already met my niece, Vicky. Why don't you two come inside to play?'

Feeling a little out of place, Connor followed the girl. He still wasn't sure whether he liked her. She seemed too strange to him, but he hadn't met many girls before. Maybe they were all like that.

He wondered if she'd like to play chess with him. It could be funny. Hey, he might be able to beat her and all. Always losing to Severus had begun to get very boring.

* * *

Harry didn't know what to think of his godfather. He was the weirdest grown up he'd ever met, and he couldn't think of anyone who could be more different from his Uncle Vernon. Which wasn't something bad at all, of course. But it was very confusing.

First of all, he seemed to have trouble doing common things like turning on the TV or doing the washing up. It was funny, but Harry had to teach him how to use the telephone. He had never met someone who didn't know how to use the phone before. He wondered where Sirius might have grown up. Not in Surrey, certainly. Maybe he was from some place very far away, where people didn't have electricity.

Secondly, he was always making jokes and laughing. Harry, who had spent the last three years of his life with people who had no sense of humor, wasn't used to this but soon he found out he liked it. Also, another weird thing about him, was he didn't mind if Harry asked many questions, especially about his parents. In fact, he looked glad to tell him everything he remembered about them, so Harry learnt more about his parents in the last few weeks he'd spent with Sirius than in his whole life.

On the other hand, Sirius had insisted on buying Harry new clothes and toys, apart from giving him the biggest bedroom in the house. The child, who was used to wearing Dudley's old clothes and sleeping in a cupboard found all these things extraordinary, and he didn't think he deserved them. However, when he had mentioned this Sirius had seemed indignant.

'Of course you do, Harry, as much as any other child! Don't listen to that crap your Uncle told you, ok?'

That was the only one time he saw his godfather angry about something. That was another strange thing about him: he never seemed to get mad, not at him at least.

But the weirdest thing about Sirius Black was that he looked truly happy at having Harry with him, and he didn't consider him a burden like Uncle Vernon had said he was so many times. In fact, Sirius seemed to really _like_ him. It was very strange.

However, even though he found Sirius weird, he enjoyed being with him. It was the first time in his life he felt truly happy.

* * *

It was a bittersweet happiness seeing Harry. He reminded Sirius so much of James, though he had Lily's eyes, that it was almost painful. Even his gestures were exactly alike of his old friend's. However, he was much shyer than James and Lily had ever been. Actually, Harry always looked almost frightened to speak, as if he was expecting to be shouted at or something. Sirius clenched his fists. Those Dursleys… Every day that passed he found out more reasons to hate them. The way they had treated Harry…

He tried to calm himself down. There was nothing he could do to change the past, so he'd better forgot about it. All he could do now was to do his best with Harry.

Which was proving to be more difficult than he had first thought. Just in the first morning he almost burnt their breakfast. He wasn't used to cooking without magic. And all the electrical stuff he had to use… It was very different from what he had studied at school.

And sometimes he didn't know how to approach Harry. He was so quiet and reserved, so different from how he had been when he was a child. Also, he realised that he would have some trouble at lecturing him, when he looked so much like his father. Definitely, he had a lot to learn about parenting.

However, now he had a much more mundane problem at hand. It was vital that he got a job soon, which would be quite difficult, as he hadn't any references. _I don't even exist in the _Muggle_ world_.

Well, no one had said it would be easy, right?

* * *

Next to come: Connor finally makes some friends of his own age, as Sirius finds out the hard way some unpleasant things about they way Dudley treated Harry and takes some action... 


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks to Jesse for the review, and thanks to Joy.

* * *

**

**Chapter Eight: New friends**

Vicky Frobisher stared at him.

'How come you've never played hide and seek? Where have you been living?'

Connor wished to answer 'I've spent my whole life in a hell dimension called Pylea, thanks for asking' but instead he replied:

'I've been living with _Muggles_' That was what Severus had told him he had to say in case someone asked about his past. Then he had had to explain to Connor what _Muggles_ were.

'Oh, really?' Suddenly she sounded excited. 'I have an aunt who is half _Muggle_, she is the one who reads _Anne of the Green Gables_ to me. Are _Muggles_ as weird as they appear in the books?'

Fortunately, Mrs. Frobisher chose that very same moment to show up.

'Vicky, don't be so rude. Why don't you teach Connor how to play?'

The girl nodded obediently and took his hand. He noticed it was smaller than his and very soft and warm. She took him to the yard and explained the rules. They were very simple and Connor found it resembled a game he had played with Daniel, in which the man hid in the dessert and Connor had to find him. Once it had taken him only five days to do so.

'Ok, let's start' she commanded. 'I'll hide first.'

After twenty minutes of playing, Vicky Frobisher was fuming. Connor had found her every single time she'd hidden, and she had only caught him twice. He just ran too fast for her, whose legs were several inches shorter than his, as her aunt kindly pointed out when they sat at the kitchen table to eat some homemade biscuits.

'I guess that Connor turned out to be a better player than you had expected,' she said, trying to repress a slightly ironic smile. She loved her niece, but she was more than a little spoiled.

Connor was silent. He wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to tell Vicky that the reason that he'd been able to find her was because he could smell her hair. It smelt like strawberries.

Vicky was silent, too, but in her case that was because she was too mad to speak. As she was the youngest in her family, she was very spoiled and her cousins and brother always let her win every game. She wasn't used to losing, and she found out that she didn't like it.

'You know, Vicky, you could ask Connor to teach you to play chess. Aren't you always saying you'd like to learn?'

Now Vicky looked a little less sulky.

'You know how to play chess?'she asked Connor eagerly, who gave her a nod. 'I've always wanted to learn, but my brother doesn't want to teach me. Would you?'

Connor agreed, so Mrs. Frobisher gave them the board and the chessmen. Vicky looked avidly at Connor, listening to every word he said. Mrs. Frobisher grinned. It was nice to see that Connor finally appeared to have found a friend.

'I must warn you, Vicky, that the first time you play you'll probably lose,' she told her niece teasingly. The girl, far from getting mad, gave her a smile.

'I think I'm getting used to losing, Aunt Olga.'

Later, when Snape arrived to pick Connor up, he found that his protégé was much more excited than usual. Soon he found out the reason.

'And this Vicky girl, at first she didn't like me much, because I beat her when we played hide and seek, but then she managed to beat me twice at chess and she was much happier and she said I was funny, but I think she meant it in a nice way, you know, not like she thought I was weird or something. And that's not all. She's invited me to her house tomorrow afternoon, there will be other boys and girls there. Can I go? Please, can I?'

It took Snape some minutes to digest all this information. Finally he got what Connor had just said. He had a friend. Not just that, but he had been invited to a place where he'd meet more children. It was great. Or was it?

'We'll see' he said, and Connor looked a bit deflated but he didn't reply. Snape wanted to think it over a little. After all, he didn't even know where this girl lived, who her parents were.

He repressed a sigh. It would have been much more simple if Connor had made friends with Draco Malfoy, given Snape knew his father and he was certain that his family was the right type.

He shook his head. Hell, he was beginning to sound like his mother. She had always insisted that he couldn't be around the 'wrong' type of people, and that had been one of the main reasons he had had so few friends as a child.

No, he wouldn't make that mistake. Looking at Connor's hopeful face, he had the distinct impression that the child would get what he wanted.

* * *

With Remus' help, Sirius was finally able to find a suitable job…selling motorbikes, nonetheless. At first he had some problems when he had to deal with _Muggles_, but soon he got used to it (he'd always been quite a sociable person) and his boss was glad that he liked motorbikes as much as she did.

Sirius started to think that everything was going really well, at last. After three weeks, Harry seemed to have gotten used to him, and now he was more open and cheerful, even though there was still a trace of sadness in his eyes that broke Sirius' heart. Harry's eyes weren't supposed to look like that. They had to be shinning with happiness, like his mother's had done.

However, he had improved a lot. Now he laughed more and he wasn't so formal with Sirius. Summing it up, they both appeared to be adjusting quite well to each other. Sirius had finally learnt to cook something edible (although Mrs. Figg insisted on coming twice a week to provide food) and to use most of the electrical stuff in the house, and Harry had learnt some interesting new games from his godfather, games that Aunt Petunia wouldn't have approved in a zillion years. Games that Harry thought were the coolest thing in the world, of course. But what was much more important, is that he had learnt that he mattered, that there was someone who truly cared for him. And for someone like Harry, that meant a lot.

So anyone can imagine Sirius' shock when one day Harry came back from nursery crying silently, his face and body covered in bruises.

'What has happened to you, Harry?'he demanded, but the boy refused to answer. Sirius gave Mrs. Figg – who had picked Harry up from school – a quizzical look, but she shook her head. She hadn't the slightest idea of what could have happened either. She had asked Harry's teacher but the idiot just mumbled something about the boy being very clumsy.

Sirius took Harry in his arms and carried him to the kitchen. The boy didn't seem to be in the mood to face a questioning, so the man decided he'd ask later. First, it was necessary to take care of the child's wounds.

As gently as he could, he removed his tiny T-shirt and began to clean the wounds. They didn't look serious but they must have been painful for a small kid. Harry was biting his lower lip, his teeth bravely clenched, but once or twice he couldn't help making grimaces due to the pain.

'Easy, Harry. It'll be over in a minute,' he promised and not for the first time he wished he had his wand. He shrugged mentally. Alcohol and Band-Aids would have to do.

Once he was finished, he helped Harry to put on his T-shirt. The boy had stopped crying, but he was still very silent and Sirius noticed that Harry was averting his eyes. No, this wouldn't be the right time for questioning.

'Hey, Harry' he said in a forced, fake cheerful tone. 'Would you like to have some biscuits while we watch the cartoons? I think Chip and Dale are on.'

Harry loved Chip and Dale. However, he only managed to give him a tiny smile. It'd be more difficult than he'd thought. Forcing a grin, he took his godson in his arms and carried him to the living room's sofa, where the only TV set they had was.

He sat the child on his lap and caressed his hair (as wild and untamable as his father's) as Harry watched the TV and ate the biscuits that Mrs. Figg had prepared for him. At first, the child winced at his godfather's touch but after a while he began to relaxe, until he finally leaned his head on the man's shoulder.

Sirius was surprised to hear Harry's hushed whisper on his ear:

'I didn't trip.'

The man put one of his strong arms around his shoulders.

'I know, Harry. Do you want to tell me what happened?'

The child hesitated. Something scared him, but Sirius couldn't imagine what it was. He kept caressing his hair in an attempt to calm him down, and at last the boy was able to whisper:

'I got hit. By some boys.'

'I see.' He tried his best to make his voice sound neutral so Harry wouldn't notice how mad he was. 'Do you remember their names by any chance?'

This time it took Harry longer to answer and when he did, he talked so softly that Sirius didn't get what he had said.

'Sorry, Harry, but I wasn't able to hear you.'

Harry took a deep breath before answering.

'It was Dudley and his friends.'

Now it was much harder for Sirius to hide his rage.

'Oh, yeah? And why didn't your teacher stop it?'

Harry sighed.

'Miss Honey doesn't like me. She says I'm a touble…a touble make…'

'A troublemaker?'

'Yeah, that.'

Sirius didn't say a word, but he swore he'd go the very next day to have a serious talk with that Honey woman. How could she be so stupid to let those boys hurt Harry? And how could she say he was a troublemaker? He hadn't ever met a boy who was quieter and more polite than Harry. Well, except for his brother Regulus, who had had as much life as a plant.

The next day he did as he had promised, and he told Miss Honey a couple of things about dealing with children. After few minutes, the young woman was already babbling and shivering under his glare.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Black, I-I… I thought they were playing or something. You-you know, children this age…They're a little brisk, a-aren't they? And the Dursleys told me they were always like that, you see, that they played like that at home…'

'I'm sorry to tell you that's not playing but being deliberately violent, and if you can't tell that, Miss Honey, then I'm astonished you were able to turn into a teacher at all. As for the Dursleys, they have as much idea as you of how to take care of a small child, and luckily Harry's not living with them anymore. And what's that nonsense about Harry being a troublemaker?'

'We-well,' the poor woman babbled 'he's always get-getting into trouble…some weeks ago he…he put cr-crabs on a girl's hair…'

Sirius frowned, and a sneer formed on his face. Miss Honey shivered.

'_Crabs_? Come on, Miss Honey, not even you can be that stupid. Where the hell would Harry have gotten those crabs in the first place? We're a little far from the sea, in case you haven't noticed.' Miss Honey opened her mouth, then closed it again. 'Anyway, it doesn't matter. Harry will never set foot in this place again. You should be glad I didn't accuse you of neglectfully treating a child. Oh, and have a nice day.'

Sirius slammed the door on his way out, and poor Miss Honey had to take two pills of Valium to calm down, and even then it took her a while to recover her ability to speak.

Just as he had said, Sirius looked for a new nursery (school?) for Harry, after explaining to him what had happened. The kid looked more than relieved when he heard he wouldn't see his cousin or that infuriating Sissy ever again, and he didn't mind that much the fact he'd go to a place where he didn't know anyone. He didn't have many friends, anyway.

However, Sirius thought he must have a serious conversation with Harry, so the day before he started going to the new school, he sat him on his lap and looked him in the eye.

'Look, Harry, I want you to listen me very carefully.' The child nodded, worried. His godfather's tone of voice sounded like a lecture. 'I know that your life with the Dursleys was very different, but from now on I want you to tell me immediately if you have any sort of problem. Is that understood?'

Harry nodded again, the frown disappearing from his forehead. Sirius grinned at him, and it was like a ray of light between two gray clouds for Harry, who smiled back.

* * *

In the end, Snape gave in and Connor got permission to go to Vicky's house. All the time he was there Snape tried to concentrate on the exams he had to correct, but every now and then he glanced at his watch anxiously, wondering how Connor might be doing.

Given Connor's atypical background, he was afraid that the boy might not get along with other children of his same age. After all, he hadn't had the same things the other kids had, nor the same experiences. Even though he didn't realise it, there was a hell of a difference between him and the rest of the children. And children could be so cruel to those they felt different… He knew that all too well.

Despite this, as soon as he picked Connor up all his concerns dissipated. The child's eyes were shinning with excitement and his usually serious look had been replaced by a grin. Even more weird was the fact that he didn't stop chattering all the way home, something very unusual given Connor's reserved nature. However, Snape found himself enjoying the boy's chatter, so he let him talk until he had no breath left.

'At first I didn't feel very comfortable, because there were so many people I didn't now and some of them looked older than me, and they were taller,' Connor confessed, 'but then I met Vicky's mum and she's like super nice. She introduced me to the other kids, you see, and I thought they all would look at me strangely, like Vicky had, when they found out I didn't know many games, but they didn't. Actually, they were very impressed when they saw how quickly I learnt the new games and how fast I can run,' he said, incapable to hide the note of pride of his voice. 'I can run faster than Miles Bletchley, and his legs are longer than mine.'

'We played hide and seek, and spin the bottle' (weren't they a little too young for that? Snape wondered), 'and Eddie Carmichael taught me to play goshtones…'

'Gobstones' Snape corrected, and the boy nodded.

'Yes, that. It's very funny, much funnier than spin the bottle, but Patty Stimpson insisted on playing it and as she is Vicky's cousin… I had to kiss a girl named Daphne. It was weird. I had never kissed a girl before.' Connor didn't look a bit embarrassed, as Snape would have expected, but somewhat surprised. 'Anyway, Vicky's mum made this huge chocolate cake, and it was one of the best things I've ever eaten. Then, Vicky, Geoffrey Hooper, Claribel Puddifoot and I played a game of Exploding Snap, as the rest had already left. It was very funny, although Geoff almost set his eyebrows on fire. But that was a little funny, too, and he wasn't hurt at all, although he whimpered.'

Finally it seemed that Connor had been left with no breath so he had to stop talking and silence fell upon them, as Snape was momentarily speechless. So far, all his concerns about Connor's social adjustment had gone. Not only hadn't he had any trouble at joining the other children's games, but also he seemed to have become quite popular among Hogsmeaders children. Snape had a sudden flashback of Connor back in the day had met him, a solitary and serious child that wouldn't get close to anyone, and he looked at the Connor that was now clutching his hand. They appeared to be two completely different people. Snape decided he preferred the newer version.

'Well, I'm glad you've had a good time,' he finally managed to say. The boy nodded and asked whether he could see the other children again. Snape had to repress a smile. 'Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll find you can.'

Connor wasn't sure what Snape had meant by that, but it sounded like something good and as he inhaled the nocturnal air he thought he was the happiest boy in the world.

Harry stood at the doorstep, hesitant. He looked once more at his godfather, who smiled reassuringly, and he took a step forward. However, after scanning the place anxiously, he was tempted to go backwards.

Before he could do so, though, a young woman appeared. She had big, baby blue eyes and long, sleek blonde hair. Harry thought she was very pretty.

She smiled broadly when she saw him and she kneeled in front of Harry, so their eyes were at the same level.

'Hi, Harry.' Her voice sounded like music to Harry. 'My name is Julie and I'll be your teacher here. Do you want to come with me?'

She offered him a hand and, without thinking, he took it. Her smile became broader and the boy felt a warm feeling growing inside him. He had the impression that he'd like his new teacher.

He shot one last glance at Sirius, who waved a hand. Waving back, Harry followed Julie into the nursery.

Soon he found out that Julie was the opposite of Miss Honey. His former teacher always insisted on keeping the children as quiet as possible, she shouted a lot and she smiled rarely. Julie, instead, didn't mind at all if her students talked, she never raised her voice and she laughed most of the time. It didn't take Harry long to decide who he liked better.

On his first day at the new nursery, he sat next to a boy who was even smaller than him. He had brown, wavy hair and round eyes, and when Harry sat next to him he was playing with a red car.

Harry was still for some minutes, unsure of what to do. He had never got along with the other children at the nursery. They all considered him weird, and besides, they were afraid of what Dudley and his friends might do if they were too friendly with Harry, so they had stayed away from him. What if the same happened here, and he was left alone as always?

'Hey, I'm Nicky Tratchberg,' the boy said, once he had looked up and noticed Harry, who gave him a shy smile.

'I'm Harry Potter. I'm new here.'

'I see,' Nicky looked at him as if he were evaluating him or something. He finally seemed to have decided that Harry was okay, because he added 'Do you want to play with me? You can take that blue car over there.'

Glad, Harry did so and they began to play, and soon Harry forgot all about his shyness. Nicky, on the other hand, looked like he was having as much fun as he was.

'Harry, can I ask you something?' Nicky said, suddenly serious. Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded. The boy gulped and asked:

'Do you like Chip and Dale?'


	10. Chapter 9

**Beta Read: Joycelyn Solo

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**

**Chapter Nine: To Spoil or Not Spoil a Child**

On Dumbledore's orders, one Saturday morning Professor McGonagall went to Surrey in order to pay Sirius Black a visit. Some might wonder why Professor McGonagall bothered to go so far from Hogwarts during school term. Well, those who ask that are those who don't know Albus Dumbledore at all. If he decided that McGonagall had to go to Surrey, then she'd go there, and if she didn't ask what was the reason, neither would we.

Besides, distances don't matter that much when you can Apparate, and that's what McGonagall did, always being careful of not being spotted by any nosy _Muggle_. Anyway, if someone did spot her, all they'd see was an elderly woman wearing perfectly normal clothes, so not even the most distrusting neighbour would suspect anything.

She knocked on the door several times before she got an answer. When this happened, she could tell why: Sirius Black looked like he had just got out from bed, with all his hair messy and his eyes half-closed. However, as soon as he saw her he snapped his eyes wide open.

'Professor McGonagall! Is there something wrong?'

She suppressed a smile.

'No, Sirius, there's nothing wrong. I'm just paying you a visit. May I come in?'

'Oh!' he said, blinking. 'Of course. Welcome.'

As she got in, she noticed that Sirius was trying to clean up the mess the living room was. It certainly looked very different from Snape's house at Hogsmeade, which his owner kept methodically tidy. But of course, Sirius and Snape couldn't be more different from each other: they were like day and night.

'Do you fancy a cup of tea?' Sirius offered. Professor McGonagall nodded.

'Yes, please. How is Harry doing?'

'Oh, he is doing just great. He's playing with a friend upstairs. Do you want me to call him?'

McGonagall decided it wasn't necessary to interrupt the child's playing, so she and Sirius began to chat about Hogwarts and people they knew, while the children played upstairs.

* * *

The bright red ball bounced three times before Harry was able to catch it. When he did, he noticed that Nicky was grinning. 

'Hey, what are you laughing at?' he asked, a little annoyed. Nicky's grin broadened.

'You.' No one could say he wasn't sincere. 'It was funny to see you jumping like that.'

Harry frowned a little. He didn't like being laughed at, so he decided that next time it'd be Nicky who wouldn't be able to catch the ball and then _he'd_ laugh.

He aimed much higher than before, fully aware that Nicky, being even shorter than him, wouldn't be able to catch it. He tossed the ball and, exactly as he had imagined, his friend only could touch it with his fingertips. A satisfied smirk was forming in Harry's lips when the ball passed over Nicky's head and then, to Harry's horror, went through the open window.

In slow motion, Nicky turned around only to see the ball disappearing from sight.

'Ooops,' he gasped, as he and Harry ran to the window and looked down. 'Mmm, I don't see it, do you?'

Harry shook his head sadly. Sirius had given him that ball just the previous day.

'Hey, Harry!' Nicky exclaimed. 'There it is!'

Harry looked in the direction his friend was pointing at and saw the ball stuck in one of the branches of the tree that was in front of Harry's window. He stretched out an arm, but the distance was too long.

'We could ask your godfather to get it,' Nicky suggested, but Harry shook his head.

'I wasn't allowed to play with the ball inside the house, but I forgot. If I tell Sirius, he'd be mad at me.' Which was the last thing he wanted in the world, after how nice Sirius had been to him. Nicky looked deflated. If Harry's arm was too short, then he wouldn't be able to get the ball either.

They both stood still, trying to figure out what to do. Then, Harry spotted a chair next to the bed and had an idea.

'Nicky, help me to put that chair under the windowsill.' They did so and Harry, standing on the chair, instructed his friend to grab his legs. 'I'll try to get it now.'

Harry stretched out his arms as much as he could, standing on his tiptoes as Nicky tried to hold him. His fingers touched the ball but he couldn't grab it yet so he stretched out a little bit more. Now his feet were no longer touching the chair, and his only support were his knees on the windowsill and Nicky's grip.

At last he managed to catch the ball and let out a triumphant exclamation. But as he tried to move backwards, one of his knees slipped and he lost his balance. Letting out a squeak, Nicky grabbed his ankles, but the rest of Harry's body was out of the window and the smaller boy was slowly losing his grip.

Harry let out a scream, which was heard downstairs, and dropped the ball, which fell all the way down and bounced on the sidewalk. His arms moved frantically in a desperate attempt to regain his balance, but all he managed to do was to grab one of the tree's branches with both hands, praying it'd be strong enough to support him.

Sirius flew upstairs and burst into Harry's bedroom, closely followed by McGonagall. His heart seemed to stop when he realised what was going on. _Oh, no, no_...

He rushed to the window and the sight wasn't any prettier from there. Harry was losing his grip and so was Nicky, so his godson was slowly but inexorably slipping down, and they were on the second floor. If Harry fell from there, he could do more than just break some bones.

He grabbed his godson from his knees, pushing the terrified Nicky out of the way. Slowly, very slowly, he started to pull him inside, which wasn't an easy task as Harry was still grabbing the branch.

'Harry, if you don't help me a little, I won't be able to get you in!' he exclaimed and Harry finally let go the piece of wood he had been clutching at.

When almost half of Harry's body was inside, Sirius took him by his waist and pulled him in. As soon as his feet touched the safety of the ground, Harry threw himself into his godfather's arms. Sirius hugged the tiny boy, a sigh of relief depressing his lungs. He realised he had been holding his breath all the time and let it go as he buried is face in Harry's messy hair. Merlin, that had been so close…

After they all had calmed down a little, Sirius took both children to the kitchen, where he served them two glasses of milk and a plate of cookies. When the children had finished eating, Sirius began the questioning. Both boys exchanged dark looks before Harry explained what had happened. There was a frown on Sirius' face when he finished, and the boy gulped. This wasn't good.

'I think that I had told you not to play with the ball inside the house, Harry. Am I mistaken?'

Harry shook his head miserably, and McGonagall wondered why she was always at the wrong place at the wrong time.

'And yet you did it anyway, in spite of what I had told you.' Sirius sighed. 'Harry, when I tell you to do or not to do something, is because I have a good reason. I admit that when I forbade you to play with the ball inside the house I was afraid you might break a window or something, but now you see how dangerous it can be. And as for the window part – Harry, that was pretty stupid. You could have gotten yourself seriously hurt or worse.'

Harry looked down, feeling more miserably than ever. Sirius shot a glance sideways at McGonagall and saw pity in her eyes. _Hey, I'm feeling much worse than he is_, he protested mentally.

'Under normal circumstances I would have to punish you for disobeying me but, hum, I think you've had enough punishment with what has just happened, don't you?' Harry nodded and Sirius had to hide a smile. 'So I'm not going to punish you _this_ time, but I want you to know that playing with a ball inside the house is absolutely forbidden from now on, and that I hope you won't do anything like you did today ever again. Is that clear?'

Harry nodded seriously. Sirius needed to ask no further: it was plain that Harry wouldn't misbehave in a long time.

After Harry and his friend had returned to their games, Sirius confessed to McGonagall that he wasn't sure if he was handling Harry correctly. The witch smiled openly:

'I think you are doing great, Sirius.'

* * *

One cloudy afternoon, Snape and Connor used Floo Powder to travel to Malfoy Manor. This mansion wasn't connected to the regular Floo Network but to a private one which very few people had access to, so it was considered an honor. 

However, Connor would have preferred to spend the afternoon at Eddie's or maybe Miles's (he didn't like Geoffrey that much because he was always whining about one thing or another). He would have even preferred to go to Vicky's and play girlie games or stand her tantrums when she lost at chess. Well, maybe not.

And when they arrived at the mansion, things got even worse. The place was huge and magnificent, with marble floors and velvet tapestries covering the walls. The fireplace was made of pure white ivory with golden ornaments, and the furniture, as well as the gates, were made of polished ebony. The place was softly illuminated by a few silver chandeliers, which made it look a little creepy. Connor, who had spent five years of his life living in a hut and was used to simplicity, clutched Snape's hand more tightly. He wasn't liking this place at all.

The splendid gates opened as Lucius Malfoy, dressed in luxurious robes like always, entered the room. He flashed a smile at them, but Connor couldn't help thinking it looked fake, and he noticed his eyes were as cold as always. He straightened up and raised his chin, liking this place less and less by every passing second.

'Welcome to my mansion.' He spoke in a carrying voice as if there was a multitude. Connor looked at both sides but saw no one. 'My other guests have just arrived and are waiting for you.'

Mr. Malfoy led them to the next room, which was smaller and looked a little bit cozier, maybe because of the welcoming fire that was flaming in the fireplace, maybe because of the furniture, which seemed more comfortable, or maybe just because there were other people apart from them.

There were two men and a young boy who looked a little younger than him. One of the men was tall and arrogant; the other one was older and his spine was bent. The child looked a lot like the last man.

Snape seemed to know them, because immediately he shook hands with them and asked how they were. Once the adults had exchanged a few more polite phrases, Snape introduced Connor to them, always referring to him as the son of a very distant relative, which Connor knew was a lie. He didn't understand why they had to lie, but he had been taught not to contradict his elders so he did his best to keep his mouth shut.

'Connor, this is Mr. Avery', The tall man gave him a false smile 'and he is Mr. Nott.' The oldest man's smile looked more sincere. 'And I believe this is your son, isn't he?'

Mr. Nott nodded and gestured the boy to come closer. The boy took a step forward and shook Connor's hand formally.

'My name is Theodore. Theodore Nott.'

'I'm Connor Angel. How are you?'

'Fine, thank you.'

The adults looked amused by the serious exchange, and then Mr. Malfoy spoke:

'Draco, come here. I want you to meet some people.'

A white-blonde boy entered the room and walked towards them. He seemed his father's carbon copy: the same pointy, pale face, the same cold, gray eyes. Even the way he walked was similar.

'My name is Draco Malfoy,' he said petulantly, but he didn't bother to shake the other boys' hands. Connor had the distinct impression that this boy believed himself too important to do something like that. He had a feeling that he wouldn't get along with that boy.

'Draco, take your new friends to your room so you three can play.' Mr. Malfoy ordered and his son obeyed at once. He gestured to the other children and led the way upstairs, in the direction to his bedroom.

This one was very large and it was filled with expensive toys of all sorts. Connor had never seen anything like that and by the stunned look on Thedore's face, he hadn't either.

Draco looked proud and began to show them some of the games and toys he owned, many of them Connor had never seen. At last, Draco got bored of showing off and suggested a game of gobstones. Gleeful, both Theodore and Connor accepted and they began to play.

However, as it became evident that Theodore was going to win the game, Draco took all the gobstones and put them back in the bag.

'Hey!' Connor exclaimed. 'The game wasn't over!'

'Yeah, and I was winning!'

'The game is over when I say it's over,' Draco snapped, 'because this is my house and in my house people do what I say. Is that clear?' Connor and Theodore exchanged dark looks. 'Now, we're going to play a game of Exploding Snap.'

'No.'

Draco blinked and stared at Connor, without understanding.

'What did you say?'

'I said that I wouldn't take orders from you. I'm not a house elf.'

Draco looked indignant.

'You can't do that! It's my house, and you have to do what I say!'

'But I won't.'

The blonde boy was fuming. Never in his whole life he had faced someone so impertinent.

'I'll tell my father,' he cried and ran downstairs. Connor shrugged and Theodore chuckled.

'I've always heard Draco Malfoy was a spoiled brat but I never thought he was that bad,' he commented. 'I guess that happens when they let you do whatever you want.'

Connor nodded, pensive. He had heard Mrs. Frobisher saying that her niece was spoiled, but Vicky had never behaved like that. He guessed her parents weren't so liberal as Draco's.

Mr. Malfoy was too embedded in his conversation to pay his son any attention, so he merely snapped at Draco not to be such a baby and turned his back on him. Even more furious, Draco returned to his room, only to find Theodore and Connor playing with _his_ toys.

'Leave those toys! I didn't allow you to play with them!' he shouted. Shrugging, the children left the toys on the floor.

The three of them stared at each other for minutes, without saying a word. At last, Theodore suggested playing hide-and-seek. Draco refused.

'Well, then we'll play without you', Connor said. The blonde boy stared at him in horror.

'You can't do that!'

'Oh, yes, we can. Can't we, Theo?'

The weedy-looking boy's lips curved in a smile.

'Yeah, I think we can.'

Seeing that they had the full intention to leave him alone, Draco swallowed his pride and accepted to play. They went to the garden, which was very big and it was full of tall trees and beautiful fountains.

'Ok, we'll hide first' Connor said and, before Draco could complain, he and Theo had disappeared. Feeling impotent, he covered his eyes and began to count, shooting furtive glances between his fingers every now and then.

'Why don't we go to Draco's room?' Connor suggested. Theo frowned.

'We are supposed to hide in the garden. He won't look for us there.'

Connor smirked.

'Precisely.'

Poor Draco Malfoy searched for them in the entire garden, which took a large amount of time as this one was so large. Finally, when he was convinced that the children had disappeared, he ran to where his father was.

'Father, father!' he exclaimed. Mr. Malfoy rose from his chair and glared at him. Draco gulped.

'What's your problem _now_, son?'

The tone was anything but fatherly. The child gulped again.

'Co-Connor and Theodore have-have disappeared.'

'What!' Nott and Snape exclaimed at the same time. Draco hurried to explain what had happened. At once, Mr. Malfoy summoned a couple of house elves and ordered them to search for the boys. Then he called some of the portraits and gave them the same order.

It didn't take long until one of the house elves found the missing children playing a game of gobstones (Theo's, not Draco's) in his bedroom.

'Connor, explain yourself,' Snape demanded. The boy, looking very calm, explained that they had been hiding from Draco but when time passed and he didn't find them, they got bored and started to play with Theo's gobstones, as Draco wouldn't lend them his. There is no need to say that Draco was furious.

'You were supposed to hide in the garden!' he shouted. Connor opened his eyes innocently.

'Really? You never said so. Did he, Theo?'

Trying his best not to laugh, Theodore shook his head. Draco was fuming.

'I don't want to play with them anymore!' He told his father. 'They refuse to do what I say.'

Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Malfoy turned to Connor:

'Is that true?'

Any other child would have felt apprehensive at Mr. Malfoy's tone. Connor, on the other hand, merely raised his chin and said calmly:

'Yes, sir.'

'Why is it so?'

Connor raised his chin a little more.

'Because I'm not a house elf and I don't see why I should take his orders. He has no authority over me.'

A heavy silence fell upon them, a silence during which Snape looked as if he wanted nothing better than to strangle his protégé. Connor remained imperturbable. Probably an earthquake wouldn't have been enough to make him lose his composure.

Mr. Malfoy eyed Connor with his steeled, ice eyes and then, to everyone's surprise, he chuckled.

'Severus, I'm telling you: be careful with this young man,' he said, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder. The boy suppressed a wince. 'He doesn't seem easy to impress.'

'And he's not,' Snape confirmed dully. However, the worst part appeared to have passed: Lucius didn't look mad at all. In fact, he looked quite amused. And it wasn't an easy task to amuse him.

'I think I like him,' he said, looking at Connor almost fondly. Then he turned to his son. 'Draco, stop pouting. You'll have to learn to play with others.'

Draco pouted a little longer and then straightened his face. His father's words had worked as an enchantment, as from that moment on he was almost civil to Connor and Theo, and they played gobstones for the rest of the afternoon without any trouble.

When they arrived home, Snape gave Connor a lecture about the appropriate behavior when one was visiting someone else's house. Connor frowned.

'But Draco was being awful to us. He has no manners.'

'Well,' Snape admitted. 'It's true he wasn't very friendly to you at first, but you have to understand that he is used to get his way in everything.'

'What you mean is that he's a spoiled brat,' Connor stated. Snape frowned.

'Maybe that's true, but yet you have no right to treat him badly. Look, it'll take him a while before he learns to get along with other children without giving them orders. He's too used to having everything he wants.'

Connor nodded.

'He has a lot of things. And a father and a mother.' Snape stared at him with curiosity. 'Theo doesn't have a mother', Connor explained. 'But at least he's got his dad.'

Snape sighed.

'I'm afraid you weren't that lucky, Connor.'

The boy looked at him, surprised.

'Why not? I've got you.'

Stunned, Snape looked at the boy and realised he was being completely honest. And then, he was even more surprised to find himself thinking of Connor as his family for the first time.

* * *

Darla stared at the starless, pitch-black sky. It looked so incommensurable, so endless, that she felt very small and insignificant under it. She had never felt that way before, except when she had been human. Maybe it was her soul which made her to feel like this. Maybe it was a sign of her recently acquired humanity. She didn't know, and she didn't care. 

She felt someone sitting on the bench next to her. She needn't look to know who he was. She knew it too well.

'What are you goin' to do now?' he asked in his thick British accent. She shrugged.

'I found them, and they didn't want to tell where he was. They don't trust me yet, no matter the soul.'

'Yeah, I know what it feels like,' Spike said and she wondered if he was talking about the Slayer. It seemed it was all Spike could talk or think about these days.

Darla slapped herself mentally. That had been mean, and she was trying so hard not to be mean. But old habits die hard, and she had spent four centuries being mean...and worse.

'So, you're goin' to look for him?'

She sighed.

'I wouldn't know where to start the search. And I'm not sure if I want to find him.'

'What!' he exclaimed. 'After all you went through to get you sodding soul back and you won't go after your child? What the hell is wrong with you?'

She didn't answer. Instead, she looked at the endless sky.

'It's different now,' she whispered, so low that he could only hear her because of his sharpened hearing.

'How come it's different?' he asked, puzzled. She looked at him, just for a fleeting second, and returned her gaze to the firmament.

'Because now I know that, wherever he is, he is happy.'

* * *

**Jesse: **Well, in this chapter Spike and Darla show up, I hope you've liked their appearance. However, except for Darla and maybe Spike most Buffy/Angel characters won't show up very often, as the fic is focused on Connor and Snape (and Sirius and Harry, of course). If you want to read more about _their_POV of the story, you can check out the companion piece of this fic, 'Ain't so far down'. It's mostly Darla's POV, but there are other characters' as well. You can see it here http/ at my profile. 


	11. Chapter 10

**Thanks, Joy!

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**Chapter Ten: Christmas Time**

Weeks went by, some of them eventful and other ones during which nothing remarkable happened, except for all those little things, insignificant at first sight and only meaningful on the whole, that make up our everyday life.

Sirius got a promotion and made a couple of friends at work; Harry went to Nicky's several times and learnt to write his own name, which his godfather considered a reason for celebration and took Harry to an amusement park for the first time in his life, and both of them nearly destroyed the TV set as Sirius tried to fix it. As everyone can see, nothing remarkable happened, and yet a million of little, insignificant things filled Harry's and Sirius' lives during those days that extended into weeks; helping them to bond. Actually, for Harry it was becoming harder to remember how his life before Sirius had been and Privet Drive had begun to resemble a bad dream. For Sirius things were a little different. He sensed it'd be a long time before he could forget, if ever, the horror he'd suffered in Azkaban, but he noticed that his nightmares were progressively fading as time went by and he got used to life again.

Several miles away, Snape and Connor faced more or less the same things. They visited Malfoy Manor some times more and, even though Connor and Draco were getting on better, Connor suspected they wouldn't be close in a long time. With Theo it was different: both children became friends almost at once in spite of the age difference, and they met several times after that memorable day. However, Theo didn't get along with Connor's other friends. He was a loner by nature and didn't like joining crowds, so when he visited Connor it was just the two of them. It didn't matter, as Connor saw the other children almost every day.

As he spent more and more time with them, he began to mirror them in some attitudes and actions, slowly putting aside his differences. Snape knew that Connor would never be like the other children, but as time passed by he noticed that the child was becoming more normal. He wasn't so serious and formal now, he laughed more and there was an innocent and trusting look in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Also, Snape noticed that he almost didn't mention Pylea anymore, rarely mentioning Daniel and Justine. It was as if Connor's memories of his previous life were fading away, and now Snape heard him talking about magical stuff and about what he'd do when he went to Hogwarts naturally, his old fear of witchcraft forgotten. Even the nightmares had disappeared, as if the terrible memories that used to haunt his sleep had been erased.

As for Snape, sometimes he opened his eyes in the morning and couldn't understand why he wasn't looking at the high ceiling of his room in Hogwarts, until he remembered the dramatic turn his life had taken. Sometimes he missed the times when he had had no one to depend on him and he wondered what he had had in his mind when he had accepted to take care of a child that was not his.

This feeling usually lasted until Connor gave him a sleepy smile over his porridge, or he showed him proudly a new word he'd learnt, or he took his hand confidently and chattered about something he'd seen or done. In those moments Snape would forget his regrets and immerse himself in the pleasant routine they both shared, and other times he thought of his life without Connor as if it had happened a long time ago.

It had its ups and downs, of course. Connor wasn't a saint and Snape had been compelled not just to lecture him, but also to give him punishment. Which was a complete nightmare for both of them. With his students it had been always been easy for Snape, but with Connor it was much more difficult, as it was harder to tell when a punishment was too much for a boy his age or when his fondness of the boy made him to be softer than he intended. On the whole, he thought that he hadn't been doing it so badly, as the child didn't hate him but didn't look like he was going to become a spoiled brat like Draco Malfoy.

Before any of them realised it, Christmas time arrived and both families faced the fact that this would be the first Christmas they'd spend together (respectively, of course).

'Connor,' Snape asked his protégé one Sunday afternoon. 'What would you like to do for Christmas?'

The child looked up from the kite he had been trying to repair (Snape himself had made it, with Connor's help, and it soon had became obvious that both of them weren't good at craftmanship as the kite tore apart after a few minutes of flying it) and stared at him quizzically.

'To do?' he repeated. 'I don't get it.'

'Well,' Snape explained. 'Usually people decorate a tree or something like that…'

'Oh! Now I remember that Justine told me that stuff, but as in Pylea we didn't have a calendar we never celebrated Christmas…' His voice trailed off, his mind lost in past memories. Snape decided he didn't like where the conversation was going so he pulled Connor out of his reverie:

'I thought we could spend Christmas at Hogwarts. Hagrid always decorates a dozen trees, and Professor Flitwick puts up some decorations too… There'll be a feast and also some crackers.'

'Crackers?' The boy asked, puzzled. Snape explained what crackers were and Connor's face shone with delight. 'Oh! It sounds like fun. Can we go?'

'Yes,' he replied, glad that the child had liked the idea. Truth to be told, Snape viewed Christmas in a quite Scrooge-like way and he had had no clue of what he'd do with Connor during that festivity, until Professor Dumbledore had invited them to join the celebration at Hogwarts. However, there was still a delicate problem that needed to be resolved.

'Connor, what would you like for Christmas? As a present, I mean.'

The child lowered his gaze, lost in thought. After a few minutes, he looked up, his eyes glinting with hope:

'I'd like to go to a Quidditch match. A real one.'

Snape blinked. Okay, he hadn't expected that.

'Are you sure that's what you want?' He had never been that keen on Quidditch, except when Slytherin won the Cup. Connor nodded eagerly. He had gone to a Quidditch match with Eddie Carmichael and he wanted nothing more than to go again. 'Fine then. Do you have any preference?'

'I'd like to see the Kenmare Kestrels. It's my favourite team so far.'

Snape smiled. Yes, he had noticed it, since Connor had covered his walls with posters of that team.

'Well, we'll see,' he said, putting an end to the matter. 'Now, do you think that kite can fly a little more or should we buy a new one?'

* * *

Harry opened his eyes at the feeble ray of light that touched his lids. He watched the shapes that the shadows formed on the ceiling for a moment, until he remembered which day it was. 

He jumped from bed, put his slippers on and flew across the corridor to his godfather's bedroom.

'Merry Christmas!' he exclaimed at top of his lungs while he jumped on the bed. Sirius woke up with a start, and Harry giggled when he saw his shocked face.

'What on earth…?'

'It's already Christmas, Sirius!'

Sirius blinked several times until his eyes got used to the surrounding darkness and he realised where he was.

Softly pushing Harry away, he rose from bed and opened the curtains. Outside, everything was white: snow had fallen during the night, covering the streets and the roofs.

'Well, it seems we'll have a white Christmas,' he said and turned to Harry. 'I guess you're waiting for your presents, aren't you?'

The child's eyes widened.

'Did I get presents?'

Sirius had a hard time keeping his face straight.

'Of course you did. What did you expect?' He grinned. 'Go ahead, they're under the tree.'

Harry beamed and ran downstairs, followed by Sirius. He stopped in front of the huge tree Sirius had gotten, hesitant. There were many packages under it and he didn't know which one was for him. Sirius placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

'Why don't you start with this one?' He suggested, pointing at a blue, square-shaped box. Harry did so, careful not to rip the paper, and gasped when he saw what was inside.

'Oh, it's a Nintendo!' he exclaimed, delighted. Then his face darkened and his voice sounded crestfallen when he added. 'It's really expensive. You shouldn't have bothered.'

Sirius frowned. Those damned Dursleys… They'd better pray he didn't find them in a bad mood…

'Of course I had to bother! You're my godson. Besides, I want you to teach me how to play with that thing. There are a couple of games I want to give a try.'

Harry smiled again, and they proceeded to open the remaining packages, which contained even more surprises to Harry's awed eyes. He had never received so many presents in all his life, and once they were over his face was shinning with joy in a way Sirius had never seen it.

Sirius didn't remember when had been the last time he had had a decent Christmas, and he was pretty sure that Harry had had none, so he intended this one to be perfect.

They spent the morning baking cookies (and burning half of them) and putting up decorations all over the house, until the place resembled a Christmas postcard. In the afternoon, they built a snowman which was almost as tall as Harry. They dressed it with a pair of yellow gloves and a red hat, his imaginary neck surrounded by a scarf with dogs on it. They took a step backwards and admired their work. It wasn't perfect (its head was abnormally large and square-shaped) but Harry thought it was pretty good, considering it was the first time he ever made one.

Remus arrived just in time for a massive snow fight, which got so fierce that Harry had to use Mr. Ice (the snowman's name) as a shield, while Sirius and Remus kept tossing huge snowballs at each other.

Harry liked Remus, who was always kind to him and knew wonderful stories, even though he liked Sirius better but with Sirius it was different: it was the closest thing to a family he'd ever had.

When they were soaked enough and every muscle in their bodies ached, they got inside to get warm in front of the fire. A few minutes later Sirius went to the kitchen to prepare the dinner and Harry asked Remus for a story. The man smiled and softly began to tell Harry a Christmas tale his father had told him as a child, when life had been much more simple.

'Once upon a time, not so long ago, neither that far away, there was a man. His name was Ebenezer Scrooge and he loathed Christmas…'

Once Remus had finished his story and Sirius had called to dinner, there was a soft knock on the door, closely followed by another one. Sirius frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone else.

He went to answer the door and Harry noticed that Remus was smiling.

'Remus, what is it?' He asked in a whisper, pulling his sleeve. The man's smile became broader.

'It's a surprise for Sirius. A Christmas present.'

Wondering what it could be, Harry tiptoed to the hall in time to see Sirius opening the door. He waited, holding his breath, until the door was finally open and Sirius let out a gasp.

To his disappointment, Harry could not see what the surprise was as his godfather blocked it from sight, so he took a few steps closer until he got a good view of the doorstep and the night beyond.

Surprised, he saw that it wasn't some kind of box what was on the doorframe, but a person. A woman, in fact.

She looked a few years older than Sirius and there was something oddly familiar about her, something Harry couldn't place, as he was pretty sure he'd never seen that woman in his whole life.

Her hair was middle-length and chestnut-coloured while her eyes were soft and brown, and her face was heart-shaped and lightened by a broad smile.

'Andromeda? Is it you?' Sirius asked in a hushed whisper. Her smile broadened.

'In the flesh,' she answered, and Harry was surprised to hear how much her voice sounded like Sirius. 'So, how have you been, little cousin?'

Introductions were made and explanations were given, and Andromeda Tonks (formerly Andromeda Black) joined them for dinner. It turned out she was Sirius' cousin (_'The only one I ever liked'_, he confessed to Harry), whom he hadn't seen in years. Remus had happened to run into her just the previous day and, guessing that his friend would like to see his cousin after all these years, had invited her secretly, as a surprise for Sirius.

The surprise worked as Sirius' eyes were incredibly wide and his jaw had fallen open. He was more than a little astonished to see her there, but soon he composed and invited her for dinner. She accepted gracefully and took a seat at the table, which was trembling because of the weight of all the dishes on it.

After half an hour, Harry decided that he liked her. She had a nice laugh (a bit like Sirius') and a tender voice, and she was very funny. A bit like Sirius, too. They didn't look physically alike, but one could notice they were relatives from the way they spoke and their gestures, which mirrored each other.

'So, where did you leave your husband and daughter?'

'Ted is on a business trip (yeah, I know, the worst time in the year for those) and Nynphadora preferred staying at school, so they've left me on my own to do what I please. You know, I'm feeling quite reckless right now.' Andromeda answered, grinning. She had a contagious grin.

Sirius smiled, too, but there was the tiniest hint of sadness in his eyes.

'Nynphadora must have grown up a lot since the last time I saw her.'

'Oh, you can be sure of that. Now she doesn't want to be called 'Nynphadora' anymore. She says it's a silly name, and instead wants to be called 'Tonks'! Can you believe it? We _spent_ months before her birth trying to decide which name she'd be called, and the ungrateful girl doesn't like it!'

Both Sirius and Remus laughed at Andromeda's indignant tone.

'Honestly, Andy', Sirius commented, 'what did you expect? I mean, what are her friends supposed to call her?'

'I don't know. Dora, maybe. Or Nynph. Or they could just call her 'Nynphadora'. It has a lot of possibilities. Unlike 'Sirius'.'

'Hey, I've never said I liked my name. That's why instead I preferred a simply ridiculous nickname like 'Padfoot'. Otherwise, who in his right mind would like to be called that?'

'Sirius, you were never in your right mind' Remus joked, receiving a playful punch from his friend. 'Oy! That hurt.'

'Liar.'

'Children, behave,' called Andromeda motherly. Harry was quite amused to see grown ups behaving like children. Maybe it was Christmas magic.

It was, no doubt, the best Christmas Harry had ever had in his whole life. After he had eaten much more than he was used to, and played with crackers, and laughed at Sirius' jokes, he finally fell asleep on the sofa. Sirius took him tenderly in his arms and carried him to his bedroom, without his even noticing. When he walked down the stairs, he saw Andromeda waiting for him, while Remus had disappeared from sight. _Here we go_…

The details of the conversation that followed are irrelevant, all that mattered was that after all those years, Sirius had finally recovered the only one relative who had ever cared for him.

_Merry Christmas, Sirius_, Remus thought after throwing a glance at their direction, as he proceeded to start the washing-up, and he realised it was the first true Christmas he'd had in years.

_Merry Christmas to us all_, _then_.

* * *

Connor fell asleep at the staff table, after eating all he was able to, played with crackers (and winning a puffskein) and chattered non-stop with Professor Dumbledore about the Quidditch game Snape had taken him to. 

Snape watched the sleeping child, who looked peaceful for once. It seemed like he no longer feared sleep, even though every now and then a little frown appeared on his forehead. Snape would place a hand on his head and after a few seconds the frown would disappear and his face would look beatific again.

'So, what are you going to do now, Severus?'

The Potions Master stared at tiny Professor Flitwick, without understanding.

'Do about what?'

'Well, the child,' Flitwick replied as if it were obvious. 'I thought you'd said it was a temporary thing, so I wonder what are you going to do with him now…'

Dumbledore, who was at the opposite side of table, listened intently without them noticing, and hid a smile when he heard Snape's indignant reply:

'Of course he's staying with me. Where else could he go?'

Dumbledore noticed the way Snape had placed a protective hand on Connor's shoulder and the way he was looking at the sleeping boy, and smiled.

His gaze met Flitwick's and his smile broadened.

_Filius, you own me ten galleons_.

* * *

She gazed at the small village, with its small, cozy houses full of Christmas decorations and smiled. It was one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen in her way too long life…the ideal place to raise children. 

She had to be careful, though. She'd been warned about the protection spells that surrounded the village, which would probably detect her sooner or later. And she didn't need to be chased down by some demon hunters right now.

After all, all she wanted was a small glimpse of her only child. Was that too much to ask? She reflected on all the things she'd done, something she did a lot since she'd gotten her soul back. Well, maybe it was too much to ask. Maybe she wasn't worthy to ask anything.

She got nearer to the house Pryce had indicated to her, careful not to be seen or heard. She shouldn't have bothered that much, really. Everyone was inside celebrating, so her presence would go unnoticed. For now.

She tiptoed to the window and took a look inside. It was a dark living room, with only a few candles to illuminate, but she noticed it was tidy and decorated for Christmas too. There were two people in the room. A tall, dark-haired man, and a small child. _Him_.

Her heart would have skipped several beats if such a thing would have been possible. Finally, after all those months, she was able to see her son. She could barely distinguish his features in the dark and was mildly surprised to realise he looked exactly like she'd imagined.

She was mesmerized at the sight of him – his brownish hair, his skinny frame, his sleepy smile. He was the most wonderful, most miraculous thing she'd ever seen. And he was standing before her eyes. He was _real_, and alive, and breathing. He was a miracle.

Darla would have wished to stay there eternally, but she was aware that it was only a matter of time before she was detected, so reluctantly she turned to leave.

She glanced once more over her shoulder and froze when her gaze met with an incredibly blue one for a brief instant, in which the world seemed to stop moving. _He's seen me_, she thought, frantic. _Of course not_, a voice in her head answered._ But he will if you stay around for long_.

So Darla turned around, this time without looking back at her only child.

_But I'll come back_, she promised in the darkness.

_Soon.

* * *

_

Not even the travel by Floo Powder was enough to wake Connor up, who could barely stand on his own feet, half-asleep as he was. Severus had a hard time taking Connor's cloak off, as the boy wouldn't release the puffskein he had in his arms. The adult suppressed a sigh. Well, it could be worse. At least Connor hadn't got a dragon as a pet.

He led the boy carefully to the stairs, with the slight suspicion he'd have to carry him to his bedroom if he didn't wake up.

But gratefully Connor managed to open his eyes before they reached the stairs. He blinked several times, in an attempt to wake himself up, and his gaze fell on the snow-flecked window. He stopped dead on his tracks.

For the briefest instant, he caught the glimpse of a young woman, with an ivory face and silver hair, which shone in the pitch-black night. _Her eyes are like mine_, was all he could think before the vision faded away and there was nothing left but shadows, and he wondered whether he'd imagined it or not.

* * *

**Jesse:** I hope you've liked this chapter, as it's all fluffiness. I'm glad you've liked the way I portrayed Draco Malfoy: honestly, I don't believe much the theory that his childhood was a Greek tragedy: if he's so spoiled, there had to be a reason. It was fun to write about Mini-Draco and Mini-Nott, and their interactions with Connor. As for Harry... Well, like always, tragedy is constantly about to strike him. It's the way he is.

**Conangse:** Thanks for the review! Hope you've liked this chapter as well.


	12. Chapter 11

As next chapter is the so expected encounter between Darla and Connor, and all its consequences, this one will focus in Sirius and Harry, as the title says. Hope you like the extra amounst of fluffiness of this chapter!

Like always, many thanks to Joy Solo!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Sirius and Harry**

Christmas holidays came to an end, much to Harry's disappointment, who had never experienced such happiness in his short and tough life. Sirius was somewhat disappointed too, as he wouldn't spend so much time with Harry from now on, but soon they got used again to their daily routine, which didn't lack of pleasant things.

Sirius and Harry had finally gotten used to each other, and they really enjoyed their mutual company. They spent most of their spare time together, playing football (at which Sirius wasn't very good), watching TV together (within weeks Sirius turned into a Disney specialist) or inventing new games, which used to be highly destructive for the furniture.

On the other hand, Harry also spent time with his best friend, Nicky, whom he saw almost every afternoon, whereas Sirius had made some friends of his own.

The truth is that nothing extraordinary happened to them in the months after Christmas holidays. And yet, everything did.

Sirius' gaze scanned the stadium, searching for something. He grinned when he finally found what he was looking for and headed to where the two men were waiting for him.

Clay Rivers and Stevie MacRae were two of his coworkers, and recently they'd become sort of friends. Sirius found them quite amusing, even though he didn't always get at once their references to _Muggle_ culture, a fact that they were quite oblivious to. After all, they were funny but not very bright.

Clay was somewhat short and plump, with sandy hair, while Stevie was tall and skinny, his jet-black hair already scarce in spite of his twenty-five years. They waved at him, and when he was close enough Sirius noticed they weren't alone: next to Stevie was sitting another one of his coworkers, Linda Kindred. He blinked, barely capable of hiding his surprise. Stevie had been chasing the girl for months and she hadn't done as much as flutter her eyelashes at him. In fact, she had treated him quite disdainfully, but she treated most people around her that way, as though she were above them all. No, she definitely wasn't one of Sirius' favorite people in the world.

'Hey, Sirius, there you are!' Stevie exclaimed cheerfully. 'I hope you don't mind I've brought Linda here along – she's a huge fan of the Manchester United, like you. I told her that West Ham was going to beat them, but she wanted to come all the same.'

'You wish,' Sirius said, and for the first time since he'd met her, she gave him a true smile. 'Everyone knows that West Ham can't beat Manchester.'

Sirius had acquired a liking for football recently, since he'd been deprived of the Quidditch and the Puddlemere United. In fact, the reason he'd chosen to support the Manchester was because its name sounded alike to his favorite Quidditch team. However, now he knew about Manchester as much as he knew about Puddlemere, so no one would suspect he wasn't a true fan.

He sat next to Clay, who didn't support neither West Ham nor Manchester, but who was such a fan of football that he'd go to see any match. Before now, Sirius had never understood the passion his _Muggle_-born classmates had shown towards football (he'd always thought it was such a dull game compared to Quidditch) but since he'd started hanging out with Stevie and Clay, he'd changed his mind. Football _was_ an interesting sport after all, and Sirius found himself enjoying it almost as much as he'd enjoyed Quidditch matches when he'd gone with James. It seemed like it had been ages ago, but it had only been three or four years. He shook his head. This was so not the moment to think on that sort of stuff. The past was in the past, and it was much better that way. He had to move on, sometime. Or at least he hoped so.

In spite of Sirius's words, West Ham did beat Manchester, much to his and Linda's disappointment. Stevie, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He insisted they all should go to celebrate to the nearest pub, but Sirius glanced at his watch and realised he had barely any time left to pick Harry up from the Tratchbergs's.

'Sorry, mate,' he told Stevie, 'but I've promised Harry we'd go to the zoo.'

Both Stevie and Clay looked disappointed. Linda, in the other hand, seemed interested.

'Who's Harry?'

'My godson,' he replied shortly, but Clay piped up:

'His parents died, and Sirius's raising him since then.'

'Oooh,' Linda said, and Sirius glared at Clay. Was it necessary to give her all that information? 'How old is he?' she asked Sirius, who wondered if it'd be extremely impolite not to answer her.

'Four.'

'Oh, a year older than my daughter, then,' she said thoughtfully, and bit her lip when she realised what she'd said. Sirius stared at her. He had no idea Linda was a mother. He glanced at her left hand and noticed it was ring-less. She followed his gaze and she shrugged.

'I got divorced six months ago,' she said, and something in her voice told him it'd be unwise to ask further questions.

In the meantime, neither Stevie nor Clay had heard a word of what they'd been talking about, as they were immersed in a chat about the match. They motioned towards the exit, and when they reached it Linda declined Stevie's invitation to go to a pub with him and Clay, saying she had to go home at once. She didn't explain any further but then she confessed to Sirius that her ex would take Chrissy, her daughter, to her house and she wanted to be there when they arrived.

Stevie was a little crestfallen at her refusal, but he was too enthusiastic because of West Ham's victory to truly bother. Actually, he didn't even flinch when Sirius offered to give Linda a lift (she lived close to the Tratchbergs), despite one would have thought he'd like to give her a lift home himself, after being her shadow for ages. Sometimes Sirius didn't get Stevie at all, and he suspected it had nothing to do with his magical education.

So he took Linda home on his old motorbike (which he'd recovered shortly after leaving Azkaban, without flying charms, though), and to Sirius's surprise they talked all the way naturally. She told him about Chrissy's fear of kindergarten, and he talked about some of the few problems he'd had with Harry, and he found himself laughing at her comments.

When they finally reached her house, as she got off from the bike she thanked him for the ride and asked him whether they could meet and have coffee sometime. Before thinking, Sirius said yes and she flashed an incredibly white smile at him before walking away. He watched her as she walked away, her sleek dark hair making a curve in the air, and wondered when he'd stopped finding Linda Kindred annoying and started liking her.

* * *

'I'm bored'.

Nicky Tratchberg's voice, usually full of cheerfulness, sounded dull and tired, almost like a grown-up's voice.

Harry himself didn't feel quite spirited either. He watched the rain pounding against the windows with a gloomy expression on his face and sighed. It had been raining non-stop for five full days, and both children were bored to death. They had played all the games they knew that could be played indoors without damaging the furniture, and even those that couldn't (Mrs. Tratchberg hadn't been delighted when she'd caught them trying to play volleyball in her living room the previous day), they had watched all the Disney movies they had, they had tried cooking with Nicky's sister, they had played hide and seek and they had even watched the news. And now, they were bored to death.

'Do you want play cards?'

Harry shook his head. They'd already played the only card game they knew and he was quite bored.

'Do you want to draw?'

It was Nicky's turn to shook his head.

'We've been drawing all day at the kindergarten, remember?'

Harry sighed again. 'I'm bored'.

In that moment, they heard the sound of the front door opening and closing.

'Sirius!' Harry exclaimed, and both children ran to greet Harry's godfather.

Sirius gave Harry a hug and caressed Nicky's hair distractedly, and thanked Mrs. Figg for taking care of the children, that he was really sorry but something had come up at work and that he hadn't meant to be so late...

'Don't worry, Sirius. It was only an hour, and I was delighted to take care of them, they're such good kids. We've seen some of my cats photos...'

From both boys' looks, Sirius could easily imagine how much "fun" they had had with Mrs. Figg.

'God, I'm so exhausted,' he mumbled, as soon as Mrs. Figg had left, while he sank into the sofa and took off his shoes. Work had been hellish that day. Stevie had been absent because of a flu, so Sirius had had to take care of all his work, but that hadn't been all. Some clients were much more annoying than usual, and one of them had some sort of tantrum and yelled at Sirius for what seemed hours with no apparent good reason at all, and his boss had also been mad at him, because he had made a tiny mistake – well, maybe not that tiny – with the photocopier. Who could use that hellish machine anyway?

Summing it up, Sirius hand't had the best day of his life. Actually, it had been more than lousy, so all Sirius wanted to do now was to take a nice, hot cup of tea, and maybe watch some telly or read the newspaper. But it seemed he wouldn't get that lucky...

'Sirius, we're bored.'

He turned to look at them.

'And what I'm supposed to do?'

The children exchanged hopeful looks.

'Play with us?'

At first, Sirius thought of refusing. He was tired, he had had a hard day at work, and all he wanted now was a nice, hot cup of tea and maybe reading the newspaper...

Wait a second. Had he just said that? A cup of tea and a newspaper? When had his life turned that boring?

He took a deep breath and got ready for the challenge.

'What do you want to play?'

The children looked puzzled. 'We've played every game. We've run out of them.'

Sirius tried his best to hide a smile.

'Well, that's impossible, as there are infinite games.' Seeing their incredulous faces, he added, in a mock-offended tone 'Don't you believe me? I'll show you.'

Half an hour later, Sirius had jumped onto the sofa, with a red cloth covering half of his face and seizing a broomstick as if it were a sword.

'You do not dare to face me, cowards?' he bellowed. 'I am not surprised, as I am the most feared pirate of the Caribbean. No man has ever defeated me, and you shall not be the exception. I will take over your island, and get rid of you lot for good!'

He ended his speech with a maniacal laughter, meant to terrify the bravest hearts... or to make them die from laughter.

'Never!' two voices exclaimed at the same time, and two figures jumped from behind one of the amrchairs and onto the coffe table, both of them seizing wooden spoons.

'You'll be kicked out from here, Captain Hook!'

'Yeah, and you shall never re-ret...come back!'

Peter and Pan (none of them had wanted to play Wendy) were pointing their "swords" at the feared Captain Hook, who didn't look that scary at all, although the red cloth covering his left eye and the weird symbols painted with crayons all over his face made him look quite funny. Harry and Nicky had painted their faces too themselves, which may explain the fact they looked so ridiculous, with red and blue lines and circles covering their smooth skin.

'You won't vanquish me that easily!' Hook roared. 'Or at least you'll have to catch me first!'

With those words, the villain jumped from the sofa and ran to the stairs. Peter and Pan (or Pan and Peter, whichever you prefer) ran after him, always clutching their swords.

Hook reached the first floor first and hid in a closet. When the children passed running, he jumped from inside it roaring 'buuhh!' Both boys winced and shrieked, then they remembered they were supposed to be the heroes and ran after him.

Hook entered his bedroom, jumped onto the bed and turned to face his adversaries, who had climbed their way up the bed and got on their feet.

As Sirius tried to give an eloquent and terrifying speech, like all good villains did, Pan and Peter discovered how much fun it was to jump on the bed and temporary forgot about the prior game.

Hook decided that wasn't the way to treat a Big Bad, so he grabbed the nearest boy (who turned out to be Nicky) and bellowed:

'I'll tickle this child to death!'

Harry stopped jumping.

'Noooo!'

He threw himself forward and grabbed his godfather's knees, making him to fall on his back. Sirius had no choice but to free his hostage, who took the chance to grab a pillow and attack him. Harry considered this an excellent idea and energetically imitated his friend, while the most feared pirate of all Caribbean choked and begged for mercy.

That same day, when his mother came to pick him up, Nicky turned to face Harry and whispered in his ear:

'You know, my dad never plays with me right after he comes from work, and neither does my mum. I think you're really lucky.'

Later, when he was getting ready to bed, Harry reflected on what Nicky had said. Until that day, he'd always thought that Nicky was the luckiest boy in the world. He had a dad and a mum, a sister and a brother who always taught him new things, a grandpa and two grandmas, and nearly all the toys he wished. That reminded him of his cousin Dudley, who definately had all the toys and games he wanted. He'd used to think Dudley was the luckiest boy in the world, too. But his Aunt Petunia would never play games, as she feared she might ruin her dress, and Uncle Vernon had preferred to buy his son expensive games rather than to teach him how to play with them. The Tratchbergs were nicer, no doubt, but Mr. Tratchberg worked too much and Mrs. Tratchberg was always too busy to play.

As he got into bed and waited for his godfather to tell him "Good night," Harry discovered that he was much luckier than Nicky or Dudley. Because they might have their parents, and much more toys, but they certainly didn't have Sirius.

* * *

'Bloody hell!'

Sirius' scream reverberated through the thin walls and reached Harry's ears, who was looking at the colourful pictures of a book in the living room. He stopped what he was doing and popped his head into the kitchen to see what was going on.

Sirius regretted his cursing, fearing that Harry might repeat it later, but the child's mind was elsewhere: his right foot had just stepped on a huge pool of whitey-water. 'What...?' He began to say, but his words were swallowed by a roaring sound, as more water splashed Sirius, soaking his clothes wet. He had to bite his lower lip to prevent him from cursing again in front of a four-year-old child. The four-year-old child in question was too busy staring at the scene before his eyes in awe.

The whole kitchen's floor was wet, with several pools of the same white water, but that wasn't the most amazing thing of all. Harry blinked in disbelief when he saw what seemed to be dozens of bubbles around his godfather's head, looking like a halo.

It took him a couple of minute to understand what was going on, but he got it when he saw Sirius hitting the washing machine in annoyance. Oh, not again...

When he'd first moved in with Sirius, Harry had noticed that he didn't get on well with electrical machines. In fact, it'd seemed like his godfather had had no idea of how to use the most simple devices, as if he had never lived in a house with electricity before. In the following weeks Sirius learnt how to deal with most of the machines in the house...except for the washing machine. At least every two weeks, Sirius did something wrong and the device broke down. Of course, according to Sirius it was never his fault: the stupid machine just hated him. Harry had begun to think he would learn how to use the washing machine before his godfather.

As Sirius was glaring at the washing machine, trying to figure out a way to fix it, the doorbell rang.

'Who the h...?' he stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly remembering Harry was there.

Impatiently, Sirius umplugged the washer and went to answer the door, although the water kept pouring from inside the machine.

He opened the door briskly, wondering who the hell it could be... and found himself face-to-face with Linda Kindred, who was smiling nervously.

'Hi. I was in the neighbourhood, and I remembered Clay said you lived here so I came to say hi...'

Her eyes widened in shock as she eyed him and noticed his soaked clothes.

'Um, bad time to come over?'

Sirius hastened to shake his head, trying to ignore the drop of water falling down his nose.

'Oh, no, not at all! Come in'

Before she could do so, though, Harry came running.

'Sirius, the water got to the living room!'

The man sighed when he saw the living room's carpet soaking wet. Linda frowned.

'What's going on?'

Before Sirius could answer, Harry piped up:

'Sirius broke the washing machine. Again'.

'Hey, I didn't...'

Linda interrupted him. 'The washing machine?' she asked Harry. 'What's it doing?'

'Nothing now, 'cause Sirius unpluggled it, but before it was pouring water like mad...'

She looked thoughtful. 'Can I have a look at it? I might know how to fix it, or at least what's wrong with it'.

Harry nodded, took her hand and dragged her in. Sirius stared in disbelief, then realised he had been left standing all alone at the doorframe like a fool, and followed them.

In the kitchen, Linda carefully examined the washing machine for several minutes. Neither Sirius nor Harry dared to disturb her concentration. Then, she kneeled and plugged it again.

'No, wait that...'

Too late: with another roaring sound, the machine began pouring water again. Sirius snorted...and then, Linda pressed one small button and the washing machine began working properly.

Sirius' mouth fell open.

'What...? How did you do that?'

Linda looked at him and seemed to take pity on his helplesness, as she said:

'Help me to clean up this mess, and I'll show you'.

The following day, Sirius went to see Mrs. Figg, who had news from Dumbledore. While Harry played with the cats, Sirius told the old woman what had happened, and how Linda had had to teach him to change a lightbulb.

'I felt really stupid,' he admitted.

'There's no reason to feel like that, Sirius. After all, you always used magic before,' she said. Then Mrs. Figg had a thoughtful look on her face. 'I don't know, Sirius. I think that next time you should just try to invite her to dinner, instead of making such a mess to impress her.'

Sirius was just too shocked to protest.

* * *

**Jesse:** I'm happy you liked my Christmas chap! Well, you have to wait no more: next chapter, Darla meets Connor... and I won't say anything else, but you can bet Snape's not gonna be happy!


	13. Chapter 12

**Jesse: **Your comment about Linda not being a Mary Sue has lightened up my day. As my first fics were plagued with those annoying creatures, now many times I introduce an original character I'm afraid she'll turn out into a Sue-monster. And as fo Darla's return, you don't have to wait anymore. And keep reading: there's still some more Darla coming...

**Conangse:** Yeah, I've missed writing about Connor and Snape too. But I think this chapter will make up for that, as it's full of Connor and Snape bits...

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Darla and Connor**

During the dark, sun-less days that followed Christmas, Darla watched her child from afar many times. She watched him while he played with his friends in the snow, laughing and throwing snowballs at each other in the animated streets of Hogsmeade, always fearing he might get hurt or something. And she also watched him when in the evenings he walked hand in hand with the tall, greasy-haired man, sometimes chattering non-stop and other times in a peaceful silence.

He was happy. She had felt it before, back in Sunnydale, but she hadn't wanted to believe it until she could see it with her own eyes. So she'd practically forced Pryce to tell her where her son was after the whole Apocalypsys-thing was over and here she was now, wondering what to do next. She had decided to search for her son as soon as she had her soul back: to go for him, check how he was and then, what? Pick him up and raise him on her own?

She hadn't thought about that in a conscious level. All she had cared for back then was her child's welfare, his happiness. But now she could see he was all right she didn't know what to do. He was happy where he was. Did she have the right to take him away from there, from the people who'd taken care of him all this time? After all, what could she offer to Connor?

In spite of her not-so-new soul, she was still a vampire. A creature of the night, who couldn't go out in the sun, so she'd never be able to take him to the park or to attend school meetings. A creature of the night, which still had to drink blood and which would never age. She'd see her child grow up and become a man, she'd see her child age and turn old, but time wouldn't affect her at all. She'd see him die, and she would be walking on this land long after he had turned to dust. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine.

No, she had nothing to offer him. It didn't matter all she had gone through, because she still could not give him what he needed: a normal life. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't change her nature. No matter how much time came to pass, she'd always be a vampire. And vampires weren't meant to have children.

Connor would do better if he stayed here, with people who were just like him. People who could give him what she couldn't.

One last night. She'd watch her child for one last night, and then she would leave him.

Forever.

* * *

Connor had his eyes shut and an innocent expression on his face when Snape turned off the lights and closed the door. His expression didn't change until several minutes passed, and no sound was heard in the house. As if there had been some kind of signal, Connor's eyes snapped open, he pulled off the blankets and rose from bed at once.

He put his slippers and some robes on and, without turning on the light, he opened the door in silence and tiptoed downstairs. When he reached the hall, he grabbed his cloak and headed towards the door in the back, which led to the small garden. After putting on the cloak, he opened the door and exited the house.

He stood in the doorframe, wondering whether she'd come that night. Maybe she wouldn't and he'd done all this for nothing. If Severus caught him…

He folded his arms, feeling the chilling cold getting into his robes, and waited. He waited until his feet felt as they were frozen and his teeth chattered, while the icy wind hurt his face. She wouldn't come. He'd better go inside and forget the whole thing.

_No way_. She'd come, as she'd done every night since Christmas, when he had first caught a glimpse of her through the window. That night he thought he'd imagined it, but then he saw her walking down Hogsmeade streets, some meters away from him. She was wearing a long, dark cloak, with a hood that covered that most of her face. However, something in the way she moved – as if she were floating – had attracted his attention, and finally he'd caught another glimpse of her snow-white features. After that, he'd seen her almost every day when the sun was down, always hooded, always in the distance. And when night fell, he could see her through the window, standing alone in the darkness.

He wondered who she was, where she came from, why she did follow him. However, he hadn't said a word to Severus about it. He didn't know why but he wanted to keep it a secret. He was afraid that if he spoke about her, she'd disappear into thin air, like in the legend of the Dryad, back in Pylea. According to the myth, there was a benevolent spirit in the mountains that aided the travelers, as long as they didn't talk about her to anyone. If they did, the Dryad vanished and terrible things happened to them. Daniel had told him it was a silly fairy tale, that only angels aided people and that there were very few of those.

Connor wasn't sure whether it was a myth or not, but he was certain he didn't want her to disappear. It was strange, but he felt like he was attached to her somehow, that there was a strong link between them. They were connected, in a way he couldn't understand. He _knew_ her, like he had never known anyone before.

Seconds extended into minutes and there was still no sign of her. He sighed. She wouldn't come. Maybe she'd vanished. Maybe she'd never existed.

Crestfallen, he turned towards the house. He'd just get into bed and forget the whole thing. Daniel was right. The Dryad was a fairy tale to fool naive people.

The wind was blowing harder than ever, making the windows tremble, especially Connor's, which the boy had left open. The window leaves began to swing. One of them hit a potted plant on the windowsill, which trembled dangerously. The wind blew harder, causing the leaf to hit the pot again. This time the potted plant fell…right to Connor's head, who was standing exactly below.

The pot would have probably smashed against Connor's head, provoking considerable damage, if a dark shadow hadn't appeared out of nowhere and caught the potted plant in midair. Connor repressed a shriek and jumped backwards, his senses alert, his whole body ready to fight if necessary, like Daniel had taught him.

The dark form, oblivious to this, carefully put the pot on the ground. It was a petite, slender form, wrapped in black clothes that swirled around with the wind. Slowly, very slowly, the form turned round and Connor glimpsed a familiar pair of sky-blue eyes under the hood.

'You!' he gasped out of breath, and his savior froze. 'The Dryad!'

As there was no answer, he blurted out:

'Or are you an angel?'

This time, a silvery, feminine laugh was heard. The hood fell on her back, revealing platinum hair and a delicate, young face. Her eyes were sparkling in amusement while her red lips had curved in a smile.

She kneeled in front of him, so their eyes were at the same level. He contemplated her and thought that she looked even more beautiful now that he could see her face-to-face.

'I'm no angel,' she whispered, and her words were almost lost in the nocturnal wind.

It was strange, but her eyes didn't look so amused anymore. Actually, now there was a trace of sadness in them and Connor wondered why. _Her eyes look like mine_, he thought. And yet, they were very different. There was something in them that Connor had never seen in his own eyes, something that, being as young as he was, he couldn't place. Someone older would have noticed that her eyes were pools of ancient memories and that she wasn't as young as she looked. The truth was that she was very, very old, and her eyes had seen far too much.

She raised a hand and softly pushed the hair away from his face. Her gentle touch felt like a wind caress and Connor stood very still, afraid that if he moved, if he spoke, it'd be gone.

Time had stopped around them. Darla looked at her child, mesmerized, trying to memorize every line, every little detail of his face. She had waited for so long to see him like this that she was afraid it might be just a dream. Maybe she'd blink and he'd be gone, leaving her alone in the dark. Maybe she'd blink and everything would turn back to the way it used to be.

She touched his face, caressing his smooth skin, just to make sure he was truly there. A shy smile curved his lips, a smile that was mirrored on her face. Neither of them spoke, both of them afraid that speaking might break the enchantment.

Darla didn't know how long they stayed that way, gazing at each other in silence, as words were unnecessary. She knew who he was, and deep down, he knew it too.

The wind was blowing all around them, and she noticed how his tiny body had begun to shake. She realised then how cold it was for a small child like him.

'Go inside, Connor,' she whispered, her voice a gentle caress on his ear. 'It's too cold here, and you should be in bed.'

He opened his mouth to protest, but Darla put a hand to his lips. He looked down, deflated, and turned to the house. She watched him walking away with a knot in her throat, and was shocked to feel her eyes filled with unshed tears.

When he reached the door, though, he turned round, hope shinning in his eyes.

'I'll come back tomorrow night. Will you be here?'

Darla stared at his expectant expression, at the hope in his eyes, and couldn't say anything other than 'yes'.

* * *

Something was wrong with Connor. He seemed to have lost interest in those things he'd been so excited about just a week ago, such as playing with his friends or Quidditch, preferring to stay at home instead. And it wasn't like he did nothing exciting when he was indoors: he spent most of the time gazing through the window, as if he were searching for something in the distance, a taciturn look on his face. That was when he wasn't having a tantrum. And these days, Connor was having a lot of tantrums for one reason or another. Snape hadn't a clue of what on earth was wrong with him, until he noticed the dark shadows under the child's eyes. It became obvious that the child wasn't getting any sleep, so he thought that might be the cause of the problem.

So he tried to give Connor a light sleep potion but the boy refused. Actually, Connor reacted as if Snape had suggested he drink poison. He had a tantrum (another one and counting) and from that moment on he sniffed suspiciously every drink Snape gave him, as if he thought that Snape would slip the potion in them (not that the idea hadn't come to his mind, but…).

He was becoming desperate. He hadn't a clue what the child's problem was, so he didn't know how to handle it. Once or twice Snape thought of asking Dumbledore for help, but there was something (pride, perhaps?) that prevented him from doing so. No, he'd find out what the problem was and solve it on his own, like he'd always done. He didn't need anyone's help.

Or at least he wasn't so desperate to ask for it yet.

* * *

Every night, Connor waited in his bed, fully awake, until he was completely sure that Severus was fast asleep. Sometimes it was a hard thing to do, because Severus was a nocturnal person, and Connor had to use all his will to prevent his eyelids from closing.

However, it was worth it. If he managed to keep himself awake long enough, he'd rise from bed in silence, put his shoes and cloak on, and go to the garden, where she'd be waiting for him.

She'd be wearing the same dark cloak, which would swirl in the winter wind, and her eyes would glitter at the sight of him, as a smile would curl her lips. The moonlight would make her silvery hair sparkle, giving her an ethereal air. However when Connor, who had always hated being cuddled, would run and throw himself in her arms, she'd feel more real than anything else would.

They'd sit on the bench, Connor on her lap, and sometimes he'd tell her about his day, and other times she'd tell him fantastic tales of princesses and knights, of dragons and magical swords. But many times they'd sit in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

Once or twice Connor had tried to invite her in, but she had put a finger on his lips and made him swear he'd never invite anyone in after nightfall. The child had sworn, even though he didn't understand the sudden note of fear in her voice, and he had sworn solemnly too not to go out at night if she wasn't there.

However, when she made him promise he'd never follow her after she left him (which always felt way too early for both of them), he nodded, but his fingers were firmly crossed behind his back.

* * *

Any parent can imagine Snape's feelings when, about four o'clock, he went to Connor's bedroom and found it empty. Feelings that worsened once that he'd checked he wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen. Feelings that turned from dread to blind panic when he searched for Connor, checking every single room, wardrobe or dark corner, without finding him.

Noting that both his shoes and cloak were gone, he hurried to the garden. Maybe Connor had fancied a moonlight stroll, or maybe he'd wanted to camp there. It didn't take long for his feeble hopes to fade away. The garden was quite small, and soon it became obvious that Connor wasn't there.

Frantic now, Snape exited the house and began the search in Hogsmeade's deserted streets. He was aware he must have looked like a madman, with only his cloak over his dressing gown, but he couldn't have cared less. The only thing he could think about was Connor, and that awfully long list of enemies the child had. They were so many, and some of them would have made many Death Eaters to look like nice and caring people.

But how could they have laid a hand on him, with all the protective spells Dumbledore had cast on the house? Unless… Unless he had gone out on his own, and someone had got him once he was outside. He felt cold ice going down his spine when he remembered the missing cloak and shoes, and all the tantrums Connor had had lately. Maybe he had run away, and now was all alone. Or maybe he wasn't alone at all. Snape didn't know what was worse.

At daybreak, he almost knocked down the doors of all the people he knew. Maybe Connor had fancied going to a friend's house in the middle of the night, and now he was there having the time of his life.

Yeah, sure.

Even though most of the people he dragged out from bed were sympathetic to him (most of them could understand the maniac gleam in Snape's eyes as they had children too), they weren't a great source of help. None of them had seen Connor in days, and even though they swore they'd keep their eyes open, they hadn't a clue where the child might be. Had he checked the house already, even those places where children were least likely to hide in? Had he checked Honeydukes and the toy store? Once one of their children, Buddy, had tried to sneak into there…

All the places where Connor could have gone were checked and double-checked by Snape, and still there was no trace of the boy. Rubbing his forehead, he decided it was the moment to put his damned pride aside and asked for help.

He summoned Dumbledore. Hell, he would have called the whole Aurors's Squad if necessary.

* * *

Darla was thunderstruck when she saw the tiny figure standing at the cave's entrance. He looked tired far beyond he should have, his hands and robes were covered with mud and there was a scratch on his left cheek. However, at the sight of her a huge grin illuminated his features and his eyes sparkled.

'I've found you!' he exclaimed, delighted. 'You can't imagine how hard was to track you down, with all the turns you gave and all…'

'Connor! What are you doing here?'

The boy winced at her brisk tone.

'I-I wanted to see you,' he blurted out. 'You always leave so early,' he added, and Darla tried her best to ignore the reproachful note in his voice. She kneeled in front of him, so their eyes would be at the same level.

'Connor, you shouldn't be here. You should be in your bed, fast asleep.'

The child pouted, but she kept her face as expressionless as a stone. Connor couldn't be there, with her. He didn't belong there, he belonged to the small house in the village, with her magical new 'dad' and his Quidditch games. She should have known better.

'Please,' he said in a small voice. 'Don't make me go back there.'

Something in his voice made her wince.

'Are you treated badly there?' she inquired, her hands on his shoulders. Perplexed, Connor shook his head.

'Oh, n-no, no. Severus's been great to me.'

She looked at him in confusion.

'Then why don't you want to go back?'

Connor looked her right in the eye, a soft smile curving his lips.

'Because I want to be with you.'

And naturally, Darla had nothing to say to that.

* * *

By noon, even the always calm Professor Dumbledore was beginning to lose his serenity. There was no trace of Connor, despite all their efforts to find him. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.

However, no five-year-old boy could disappear like that, not without help. And Dumbledore's worst fear was that whoever that had taken Connor away had no intention of helping the child at all.

Caressing his beard absently, the headmaster reflected on all those who might have had an unrequited interest in Connor. Most of them couldn't get anywhere near Hogsmeade, because the village was magically protected against most dark creatures, especially demons. Besides, it would be hard for them to find Connor, as Dumbledore had cast on the child an Anti-Locating Spell, which right now was giving them more than one headache.

However, there were certain creatures (or beings, according to the Ministry of Magic) that could walk into the town if they were careful enough. _Vampires_. The Ministry didn't bother so much to control their presence in the village, as these creatures often preferred _Muggle_ towns, where they could feed without being disturbed by vampire hunters. So, if there was a vampire at Hogsmeade, weeks could pass before it was noticed. Not to forget a vampires's skill to find people using their sharpened senses.

Yet, how did this vampire know where it had to look? Or had the vampire already known that the child was in town? If that was the case, how could it have known?

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. This was looking worse by the minute. Only Merlin knew what could happen to Connor if he was at the hands of a vampire clan.

Unless… Dumbledore raised his head. Unless it wasn't a vampire clan, but one single vampire…one that had a particular interest in Connor…

'Minerva, call Severus now. I think I might know with whom Connor is.'

* * *

Darla watched her sleeping child, a tender look on her face. He looked so peaceful, wrapped in her cloak, as if he hadn't a care in the world. _Sleep tight, my dear boy. Mummy will watch over you_.

Poor thing, he was so tired. She'd let him sleep all he wanted to, and then she had some Twinkies for him. Not the most nutritious food in the world, but it wasn't as if she could go to get some decent food in the middle of the day.

When he awoke and if he wasn't too tired, she'd take him to the gruta inside the mountain, where he could wash up and drink some water. She was sure he'd love it: the gruta was a beautiful place, filled with diamond stalactites and stalagmites that sparkled with the feeble ray of light that came from above and reflected on the water, which its sound resembled music.

But there'd be time for that. Right now, her boy's mind was far away in dreaming, and she was happy with just watching him sleep.

* * *

Night had just fallen, at the early time of five o'clock, when he found him in the least likely place possible: his own house's entrance stairs. He was just sitting there, wrapped in his tiny, bright cloak, with a perfectly indifferent look on his face. He seemed completely unaware of all the torment he had put him through. In fact, he looked as if nothing out of ordinary had happened and didn't understand what all the mess was about.

Snape blinked several times, not daring to believe his eyes. During the previous thirteen hours of agony he'd believed to see Connor more than once, and every single time he'd found out his eyes had just deceived him.

He stood there, frozen, for what felt like hours. His muscles just didn't appear to be able to respond to him, and neither did his brain, which had turned blank. All day he'd been thinking about what could have happened to Connor and what would happen if they found him too late (especially after Dumbledore had shared his thoughts about who could have kidnapped him), and now he had him before his eyes he couldn't move, he couldn't think. He was just stunned.

'Wait a moment,' came Professor McGonagall's voice from somewhere near him. 'Isn't that Co…?'

She was never able to finish that sentence. A black form ran past her in a blur, and the next thing she saw was Snape falling on his knees in front of the child and grabbing his shoulders.

'Connor, are you all right? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? Did someone _try_ to attack or hurt you? Were you kidnapped? Did you run away? _What happened?'_

The child's eyes were wide open, and he was looking at Snape as if he wasn't getting a word of all he'd blurted out. Taking pity on him, McGonagall put a hand on her colleague's shoulder to calm him down.

'Severus, why don't you take Connor inside, while I notify Albus that he's back?'

The Potions Master stared at her for a moment in confusion, then he seemed to remember where he was and nodded. He took the boy in his arms, more gently than anyone would have imagined Snape capable of, and entered the house.

McGonagall thought that Snape would resume his questioning as soon as he'd walked past the doorframe, but she was mistaken.

First thing he did was to give Connor something to eat, as the boy (who had only had some Twinkies) looked as if he was starving. The next thing he did was to check that the child wasn't hurt, then he took his clothes off and gave him a bath, all of these in silence. Once the bath was finished, he wrapped Connor in a soft towel and took him to his bedroom, where he helped him to put on his Kenmare Kestrals pajamas. So far none of them had pronounced a single word, and they didn't until Connor had got into bed and Snape had sat by his side.

The man gazed at the boy for a moment, not quite believing he was truly there yet. Merlin, he'd been so scared…

In his most gentle voice (one that he'd been practicing a lot recently), he asked Connor what had happened.

The child did not answer. He did not answer to any of the questions Snape made that night, not even when the man's voice had lost its initial gentleness and had turned into a growl. He didn't answer to Albus Dumbledore, either, when he came the following morning to check on him. And he kept his stubborn muteness for the days that followed. Connor wouldn't say a word about what had happened during those thirteen hours that he'd been gone, no matter the threats or the pleas. He was as silent as a tomb.

Snape was seriously considering using Legilmenccy on him while he was asleep, despite McGonagall's indignant protests, when the answer came walking through the door… Or at least it stepped on his doorstep.

One night, a short while after Connor's disappearance, Snape heard a soft knock on the door. He rose from the armchair, put the book he was reading aside, and walked to the door.

He hesitated before answering it. Someone knocking on the door in the middle of the night rarely meant something good, at least in Snape's vast experience.

To his surprise, when he opened the door he didn't find any of the people he'd imagined would deliver him bad news, but a complete stranger, who yet looked oddly familiar.

It was a young, blonde woman, slender and petite. He was pretty sure that he'd never seen that woman in his life and yet there was something in the way her eyebrows curved, in her clear eyes, that felt very familiar, even though he couldn't place what it was.

The woman hesitated a moment, then she cleared her throat, and there was no hesitation in her voice as she spoke.

'Good Evening, sir. I assume you are Professor Severus Snape?'

Snape looked at her in the eye. She didn't lower her gaze.

'You assume well.'

There was a short pause, during which the woman looked slightly nervous, then she composed.

'Well, first of all, I wanted to apology. For what happened the other day, you know.'

Seeing his bewildered expression, she frowned.

'With Connor, I mean. It wasn't my intention to scare you or anything.' As he wouldn't respond, she added, her frown deepening. 'Hasn't Connor told you?'

'Tell me what?'

She didn't wince at his snappish tone of voice, but looked somewhat disconcerted. As if this wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting at all.

'That when he disappeared, he was with me,' she stated. Snape stared at her, unable to answer. 'I had no intention of worrying you at all, but I couldn't go back to the village until night, so he stayed the whole day with me…'

'Do you do this a lot?' Snape hissed, his voice trembling with fury. She blinked.

'Do _what_?'

He gave her one of his worst glares, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever on her.

'Kidnapping children that aren't yours.'

She looked as if she'd been slapped.

'Oh, no, hold on a second,' she said, getting angry too. 'First, I didn't kidnap him. He followed me. And second…'

A weird smirk spread across her face, a smirk that made Snape's hair curl…figuratively speaking, of course.

'Who said he wasn't mine?'

* * *

_Next Chapter: **Mother is the name**. Snape finally finds out what happened that night and Darla hassome things to explain. On the other hand, Siriushas some second thoughts about the way he's taking care of Harry and looks for advice..._


	14. Chapter 13

**Jesse: **Thanks for always encouraging me with your reviews. I guess you're right: I might be a little bad with Snape, I feel kind of guilty... which doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again!

**Luna Moonlight Fawn:** It's always nice to meet a new reader. Welcome! Thanks both for your review and for your blessing - although here where I am, Winter Holidays have just started. Anyway, thanks, and here's what happened next.

_Like always, many, many thanks to Joycelyn Solo.

* * *

_

**Chapter Thirteen: Mother is the name**

The following evening, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Darla, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Professor Dumbledore were in the latter's office. Snape looked furious; McGonagall, worried; Darla was expressionless and Wesley just looked tired, while Dumbledore seemed curious.

'So, Darla, would you kindly explain us this soul matter again?' he asked. Darla straightened in her seat and retold the story for what seemed to be the twentieth time.

She told them what she'd done after Connor's birth, how she'd felt he was back and how she'd overheard two vampires talking about Spike. Then she explained she'd gone to Sunnydale and that then she'd gone to Africa, following Spike's instructions, in order to get her soul. She made a brief description of the tests she'd gone through, and the confusion that had followed the recovery of her essence. She didn't speak, though, of the despair that having her soul back had brought, and she didn't mention the time she'd spent wandering with no destination, her mind and heart bending under the weight of so much guilt. It was still too painful to even think about it, not to say talking about it with complete strangers.

Darla explained that she'd searched for Wesley and the others, hoping Connor would be with them and that when she hadn't found him with them (not to mention Wesley's refusal of revealing her son's whereabouts) she'd gone to Sunnydale. Wesley began to talk from this point.

'There was a major crisis at the Hellmouth, an Apocalypses, actually. The Scoo – I mean, the Slayer's team – requested Darla's help, and I've witnessed myself how she helped them to defeat the First Evil, an extremely powerful evil entity, when my friends and I went there to help.'

And then he explained again the huge difference there was between a souled vampire and a normal one, using all the examples he had. The others listened attentively, bur Darla noticed the incredulity in Snape's eyes and the shock in McGonagall's. She didn't blame them. After all, it wasn't an everyday thing to find out that vampires could be anything other than vicious killer-machines.

'But why didn't you come straight here after Mr. Wyndam-Pryce told you where Connor was?' Dumbledore asked. 'Mr. Wyndam-Pryce could have let us known about the recent events, and we would have made the arrangements for you to meet Connor.'

Darla didn't answer at once. She stared at her hands on her lap, in deep thought, trying to remember why she hadn't done so.

'I guess I didn't because I wasn't planning to meet him.' At their perplexed faces, she elaborated. 'Look, I know I'll never be a candidate to the Best Mother in the World, and no matter how much I love my child, I'll never be able to raise him. I didn't want to meet him 'cause…well, 'cause deep down I knew that Connor would do better with whoever he'd been placed with. I just… I just wanted to check that he was alright. I just wanted to _see_ him. Is it a crime?'

'No, Darla, it's not,' said Dumbledore softly, 'but it would have been easier if you had just let us known you were here. We got truly scared when Connor disappeared'.

'If I had told you,' the vampire asked, 'wouldn't you have tried by all means to keep me away from Connor?'

Snape had to bite his lower lip in order not to say '_Yes_' as Dumbledore caressed his chin.

'It could have happened, it's true,' he admitted, 'but now that we know you've changed, I see no reason to do that.'

It took a moment for Dumbledore's words to sink in Snape's mind. When they finally did, the man rose from his seat abruptly, his eyes flashing with anger.

'Albus, may I talk to you for a second? In private?'

At once, Professor McGonagall invited Darla and Wesley to have a cup of tea in her office. They had no option but to accept, so they followed her out of the Headmaster's office. Once they were alone, Snape turned to face Dumbledore, his hands shaking with fury.

'Albus, certainly you aren't implying that you'll let this…this _vampire _be anywhere near Connor, are you?' he hissed. His words were more of a statement than a question, although Dumbledore replied all the same.

'Well, I see no reason not to let her see her child, Severus. She's his mother.'

'Mother! She's not such a thing as a mother. She's a vampire, a monster! She can be no one's mother!'

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.

'Severus, haven't you heard what Mr. Wyndam-Pryce explained?'

Snape snorted.

'Oh, yes, I have. All that rubbish about a vampire getting a soul and becoming a champion who helps the helpless? Come on, Albus! A vicious killer doesn't change his ways like that, we know that.'

'However,' the Headmaster replied, a steeled, cool note in his voice, 'we know that people can commit mistakes and pay for them, don't we, Severus?'

Snape opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn't liking at all where this conversation was going.

'Some people can correct their mistakes,' he said through gritted teeth, 'but she isn't a person. She's not even human!'

Suddenly, Dumbledore looked deeply annoyed. He rose from his seat too, and glared at the younger man.

'I'm afraid you're missing the point, Severus. What a person is – and I consider Darla as one, as she has got a conscience and all that makes a person – is determined by their acts. And I believe that Darla has showed with her recent acts she can be trusted.' Before Snape could say something, he raised a hand. 'Of course, we ought to be careful. Darla still carries it in her nature. However… I think we can give her a chance, Severus. I think she's earned that much'.

Dumbledore's words were still floating in the air when a soft knock on the door was heard. Both men winced; being Dumbledore the first to compose himself.

'Come in,' he called and the door opened to reveal Darla. There was an almost shy expression on her face, which Snape found quite amusing for some reason. She stepped in, closing the door behind, and headed straight to Snape.

'I just wanted to say,' her face didn't have a shy look anymore, but a determined one, 'that I don't plan to take Connor away whatsoever. I'm realistic. I'm not the best option to raise him. I'd never be able to do all the stuff normal mothers do – I can't even go out in the sunlight. I'd never be able to take him to school or to the park, or help him to fly a kite. And what kind of childhood would he have if he were raised by a vampire?'

She shook her head. 'No, he can't live with me. Besides, I'm not a witch. I don't understand magic at all. But the most important thing is…' She sighed, looking at him in the eye. Snape was startled to see the brutal honesty in them. 'He is happy were he is. He's happy with _you_. And I'd never, _ever_, dare to take that away from him.'

A stunned silence followed Darla's speech, which lasted the time Snape needed to process all she'd said. He glanced at Dumbledore, but the old man's face was as expressive as a stone, then he looked back at Darla, who'd turned to leave.

'Wait!' he called, and she stopped dead in her tracks, turning to face him. He took a deep breath as she looked at him expectantly. 'You're right. You'll never be able to raise a child.' At these words, her eyes darkened and her shoulders fell. Looking sideways, Snape noticed that Dumbledore looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon. 'But you're his mother,' he continued softly, 'and he needs you. So, even though I still don't trust you that much, he needs to keep seeing you, whether I like it or not. So…I guess I'll have to let you see him and all.'

Darla looked up, and to Snape's shock, she had a hopeful spark in her eyes and a huge grin all over her face, which made her look centuries younger. And then, for the very first time, Snape was fully aware of the much she and her son had in common.

* * *

Sirius quickly took the cake out of the oven before it got burnt. Truth to be told, he wasn't an awesome cooker – but weeks of practice had served its purpose. The cake wasn't burnt (well, maybe a little bit) and it looked quite good. _Let's hope it tastes the same way_.

He placed the cake on a plate and then proceeded to cover it with Chantilly cream, always careful not to make too much of a mess. It was a bit of a drag cleaning afterwards.

Sirius stopped what he was doing (without noticing he'd spilled a bit of cream on the table) when he heard laughter coming from the next room, laughter that sounded like a phoenix's song to him: Harry's laughter.

Forgetting about the cake, he tiptoed to the kitchen's door and peeked at the living room, where both Harry and Linda were trying to teach Chrissy, her little girl, to play with the colourful bricks. However, it seemed to be a hard task: Little Chrissy, instead of following Harry's and her mother's instructions, kept using the bricks as projectils. One of them had hit Linda, but instead of getting mad she laughed.

'No, Chris, don't do that,' she tried to lecture her. 'You can hurt someone.'

The girl looked up, a pout forming in her lips. Harry leaned towards her.

'Look, Chrissy, it's not that hard. See, if you do this...' He began to place the bricks one over the other, forming a trembling tower. She watched him in awe, and tried to imitate him. In spite of her good intentions, all she managed to do was to make the tower to fall. Her eyes widened and she looked at Harry, scared. Harry, though, laughed.

'You're doing better,' he said, and the girl's eyes glittered. Linda looked up and beamed at Harry, who smiled too.

There was such longing in that smile, and in the way Harry eyed Linda that made Sirius's heart ache as he had a sudden revelation.

Harry needed one thing, the only one thing he'd never be able to give him.

He needed a mother.

* * *

As had happened with the custody matter just a few months ago, the one to say the last word on the matter was Connor himself. He stated he wanted to keep living with Snape, once they'd reconciled, but he wanted to see Darla as well, especially now he knew she was his mother and he was no longer an orphan.

So Snape was practically forced to let Darla see Connor at least. No need to say that Connor was delighted to hear the news, and soon he turned back to his old self, abandoning that awful habit of throwing constant tantrums. In fact, as Snape noticed with a strange pang in his heart, Connor looked happier than ever before, with a new light shinning in his eyes, a light that illuminated his whole face and that hadn't been there when Snape had first met him.

Snape, who was alert to any suspicious thing she might do, carefully watched Darla's first visit. In fact, he didn't leave them alone for a single minute, afraid of what the vampire might try to do in his absence.

Darla, who was aware of Snape's distrust, was very careful not to do anything that might raise his suspicions, and therefore she didn't show as many signs of affection towards her son as she would have liked to do. Instead, she had to sit on the sofa at a prudent distance from Connor, and she didn't dare to hug him in front of Snape's constant gaze.

Connor, on the other hand, was happily oblivious to the adults' uneasiness, and he enjoyed his mother's first visit so much that he begged Snape to let her come again. When Dumbledore found out about it, he insisted on the importance of a mother to her child, to the point that in the end Snape reluctantly promised that he'd let Darla visit Connor every now and then, as long as she didn't do anything suspicious.

However, in the following visits she did nothing that could have raised the most paranoid person in the world's suspicions. She just sat with Connor on the sofa, and taught him new games or songs, told him fantastic tales of places and things she'd seen or just listened to his childish chatter. They were all pretty simple things to do. However, Connor looked at her with such an adoring look in his eyes that Snape couldn't help feeling a pang of jealously. Certainly Connor didn't look at him like that, the little ungrateful brat, after all he'd done for him…

'He looks upon you, you know,' she commented one day, when Connor had fallen asleep on her lap. Snape merely stared at her, and she continued. 'You might not notice, but he's always paying attention to what you do, and tries to imitate it. It's quite sweet, actually.'

She gave him a gentle smile, and to his own surprise, he found himself almost willing to return it. He refrained the impulse to do so in time, keeping his face unfathomable.

'As he's fallen asleep, I think I should take him to bed. You may leave.'

His tone was anything but polite – actually he'd sounded quite snappish – but Darla wasn't that easily fooled. She knew her words had gotten to him, even though he'd never admit it.

* * *

A short while after Linda and Chrissy had visited them, Sirius decided he needed some advice. Normally he would have asked Remus, as his friend had always been a great confident, but this time he thought he needed a more feminine point of view.

To tell the truth, he hadn't many options and even though he'd had them, there was only one person whom Sirius would have asked advice for such a delicate matter: Andromeda. So one cold, dull January morning, he paid his cousin a visit. As Harry was at his friend Nicky's house, he had the whole day for himself, so he made the long journey to his cousin's place in Scotland – thank Merlin he could Apparate. Even though he didn't use magic everyday, Dumbledore hadn't forbidden him doing magic altogether or he would have gone insane.

Ted Tonks was more than a little surprised to find him standing on his doorstep, even though his wife had told him where she'd spent Christmas.

'Hmm... Hi?' Sirius said tentatively. Ted blinked and at once he'd composed.

'Sirius, hi! It's been a long time'.

An uncomfortable pause followed those words, as they both remembered that the last time they'd seen each other had been right before the Potters's deaths... and Sirius' incarceration.

'Andy's inside, if you want to see her,' Ted said, breaking the silence. Sirius forced a smile.

'Sure. Can I come in?'

Ted nodded and led the way in. Sirius looked all over the place with interest, noticing it hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been there. The hall and living room looked as cozy and warm as he remembered (so different from Grimauld Place as one could imagine) but there were small differences: the green sofa hadn't been in that corner before, there were new pictures and drawings hanging from the walls, and the photographs on the fireplace showed how long had passed. Last time he'd been there, Nymphadora Tonks had been nine years old and wore frilly dresses her mother forced on her. Now he noticed that in one of the most recent pictures she was wearing Gryffindor colours and carrying a broomstick. He couldn't help smiling proudly at the sight. _That's my girl_.

Knitting by the fire was Andromeda, who looked up when he entered the room. She looked surprised at first, then a grin lightened her features and she jumped from her seat. 'Sirius! It's so good to see you!'

Before he could react, she had wrapped her arms around him and was hugging him tightly.

'I'm glad to see you too, Andy, but you're leaving me with no breath,' he protested and she loosened her grip.

'Sorry.' She smiled guitily. 'It's just that you've taken me by surprise. C'mon, sit here. I'll bring you a cup of coffee, or do you prefer tea?'

'I'd like some tea, thanks.'

Andromeda hurried to the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Ted alone. At first, there was an umfortable silence: it had been too long since the last time they'd spoken freely. However, both Ted and Sirius were sociable people, so soon they were inmersed in a talk about weather, Quidditch, and the magical world in general. Sirius was stunned to find out how little he knew about all what was going on, trapped in the _Muggle_ world as he was. He asked avidly for news, and Ted tried to fill all the gaps. It was amazing all the sutff that had happened while he'd been in Azkaban, stuff that Remus, Dumbledore and McGonagall hadn't bothered to mention.

Ted was telling Sirius about Crouch's son, something that Remus had only mentioned by passing, when Andromeda returned with the tea.

'Can't you two talk about something more cheerful? The subject depresses me,' she complained, and they hastened to change the conversation. Suddenly, there was a mischevious spark in Ted's eyes.

'Oh, I know something that might interest you, Sirius,' he said in a conspiratorial way. Sirius looked up from his cup of tea and Andromeda frowned a little, wondering what her husband would say. 'About that old _friend_ of yours, Snape.'

Andromeda mentally sighed. _Oh, Ted..._

'What about Snape?' Sirius asked, trying to sound unconcerned, but his cousin noticed that he was looking at Ted attentively. Her husband smirked.

'Nymphadora has told us some weeks ago, but at first we didn't believe it. It seems it's true, though.'

'What's true?' Sirius inquired, wondering what could be so funny about Severus Snape. Ted made a pause, then he added in a theatrical way:

'He's adopted a child.'

A stunned silence followed these words. Sirius stared at Ted, thunderstuck, then he shot a glance at Andromeda.

'You got to be kidding me.'

Ted shook his head. 'Nope, it seems it's true. Can you imagine anything more ridiculous?'

'Ted!' his wife exclaimed. He had the grace to look a little ashamed with himself, but he insisted, 'C'mon, Andy, you know that bloke is as good at dealing with children as I am at cooking.' He turned to Sirius. 'And I'm a nightmare at cooking.'

Sirius blinked. Snape, raising a child? Had the world gone mad?

'Who in his right mind would let him do that?' he asked, shocked. Ted shrugged.

'Dunno. I think it's his nephew or sorta. Anyway, I have to go: I've promised old Chambers I'd be there early.'

He said goodbye to Sirius and kissed his wife before leaving through the fire. Sirius kept staring the place he'd been standing, incapable of believing what he'd said. He had a lot of doubts about his capability of raising a kid, but _Snape_? It was outrageous!

'So, you've just came for a social visit, or you wanted to talk to me about something?'

Andromeda's voice pulled him out of his reverie. Suddenly he remembered why he'd gone there and, forgetting all about Snape, he told his cousin about his worries. She listened in silence until he had finished, looking pensive.

'Let me get this right,' she said slowly. 'You're worried you might not be good enough to take care of Harry on your own?'

Sirius shifted. 'No, it's not exactly like that. It's just... I'm not his parents, Andy. I can't fill James's and Lily's shoes.'

She eyed him before answering.

'No one's asking you to do so, Sirius. You don't have to take your friends' place to raise their son. You can't replace them, and you don't have to.'

He still looked unconvinced. He sighed. 'Andy, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to do this. It's a great responsability and I... well, I've never been very responsible. And I'm so scared of screwing it up. I'd never forgive myself if something bad happened to Harry.'

There was a long pause, during which Sirius stared at Andromeda and she stared at her shoes. Finally, she looked up.

'Sirius, what you feel is perfectly normal. I felt the same way when Nymphadora was born. Remember how scared I was that I might let her fall if I took her in my arms, and how the Healer laughed at me?' Sirius nodded, smiling at the memory. 'And Ted, Ted was terrified. He treated the girl as if she were made of crystal. Look, no one knows how to take care of a child. There are no books that teach you how to do it... well, there are a couple of them, but they aren't very useful, believe me 'cause I tried using them. Anyway, you'll learn from experience, 'cause it's the only way to learn. And yes, you'll make some mistakes, we all do. It's not a tragedy. I've made a lot of mistakes with my daughter (the worst of all naming her like I did, according to her) but I haven't returned her to St. Mungo's, saying that I wasn't good enough to take care of her.' She smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Sirius, I've seen Harry, and I don't think I've ever seen a boy who looked so happy as he looked with you. Whatever you're doing, you're doing it right. And about the mother thing...' She broke off in mid-sentence, thinking. 'I know it's going to be hard for him, but it could be much worse. He could have had a mother like mine.'

'Or mine,' Sirius added. Andromeda nodded, a sad look on her face.

'And you don't have to do this alone, Sirius. You can come here as many times as you wish, we'll be delighted to receive you.'

He looked up and smiled at her.

'Thanks, Andy. What would I do without you?'

She shrugged, a smile curving her lips.

'Who knows. Maybe you'd throw a party.'

That afternoon, when he went to the Tratchberg's to pick Harry up, the child broke into a run as soon as he'd seen him and jumped into his waiting arms.

'Hey, have you missed me?' Sirius said as he tickled him. Harry laughed and took a tattered box from his bag. Sirius examined it curiously. 'What is it?' he asked. Harry grinned.

'It's a surprise. You have to open it.'

Siriu did so, and found some burnt biscuits inside.

'I've made them for you,' the child explained, sounding a bit uncertain. Without saying a word, Sirius took one of the biscuits and put it in his mouth.

'Mmm, delicious,' he lied, and Harry beamed at him. Then, he started to tell him all he'd done while he'd been absent, as Sirius engulfed the contents of the box, trying his best to look pleased.

When night fell, Sirius was surprised to see that Harry was rather reluctant to go to bed on his own.

'Harry, what's wrong?' he asked, when the child refused to go to his bedroom alone. Harry shifted uncomfortably. Sirius leaned closer to him.

'C'mon, Harry, you can tell me,' he whispered. The boy hesitated once more, then he whispered in Sirius's ear.

'I'm scared of Beetlejuice,' he said, very seriously. Sirius stared at him.

'Beetlejuice?'

Harry nodded. 'He appears out of nowhere if you say his name three times. I told Nicky it was a lie and I mentioned his name three times, but... now I'm not so sure it's a lie,' he confessed.

Sirius had a hard time keeping a straight face, until he remembered that many grown-up wizards refused to pronounce Voldemort's name. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to calm him down.

'Harry, this Beetlejuice appears only if you say his name three times, right?' The boy nodded, fear shinning in his eyes. 'Well, you've said it four times. He won't show up.'

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't thought in that.

'You... you're sure?'

'Of course I'm sure!' Sirius exclaimed, and the fear seemed to disappear from Harry's face. 'Anyway, you can sleep with me tonight, if you want.'

Looking relieved, Harry nodded, and Sirius took him upstairs. Once Harry had gotten into bed, Sirius covered him with a blanket and placed a kiss on the lightning-bolt shaped scar as Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep. Sirius watched the sleeping child for a long time.

'I can't take your place, James,' he whispered in the night, 'but I promise you I'll do my best to take care of your son.'

* * *

**Author's notes: **I think I've already mentioned this, but here I go again: I'm writing a companion piece to this fic, from Darla's POV, called 'Ain't so far down'. If you wanna now what happened after Snape agreed to Darla's visits, you can fin out here: http/ if you wanna read the whole story, you can start here: http/ you can always check my profile. 


	15. Chapter 14

**Jesse: **You know, I've always been quite scared of Beetlejuice myself. He was so...creepy. Well, to me, anyway, and I thought it could be quite scary for a four-year-old Harry, too. Andromeda's little speech was kinda hard to write (I feared it would be too sappy) so I'm glad you've liked it. As for Linda and Chrissy, well of course I'm happy you've liked them, but they were never intended to have a major role as you'll find in next chapter...

**Luna Moonlight Fawn: **You have to wait no more, here's the new chapter! This is kind of sweet, too. Well, at least it has some sweet moments. Hope you enjoy it as much as the last one!

* * *

_To everyone that's reading this, sorry for taking a little longer to update, but of course that the Prince absorved me completely! Don't worry: I had already written up to chapter 20 (well, at least half of it) and had planned Connor's future a lot ahead, so what happened in Book Six won't affect greatly my plans. I'm afraid that my fic will become even a little more AUish, but you can deal with it, right?_

**Thanks to Joy for beta reading!

* * *

**

**Chapter Fourteen: School boys**

After some months, Snape was forced to let Darla visit Connor more often. And that wasn't all. When summertime was drawing closer, Dumbledore suggested that Darla might take Connor to her new flat in London. Snape, who had watched closely every minute of Darla's visit, not leaving her alone with the child once, showed his indignation. There was no way he'd let that vampire be alone with Connor! How could Dumbledore even suggest such an insane project?

To Snape's shock, though, other people didn't think like him. Both McGonagall and Flitwick thought that Darla wouldn't harm Connor. Snape snorted at the thought. She was a vampire, for heaven's sake! It was in her nature!

But Dumbledore insisted, and with Connor's help, Snape was soon convinced that he'd know no peace until he gave his blessing to the preposterous idea. It's needless to say how glad both Darla and Connor were at the news.

In spite of his prejudices and fears, Connor was returned in one piece, and apparently delighted with the things he'd seen there. Darla had taken Connor to a cinema for the first time, and the boy had spent the whole movie on the very edge of his seat, mesmerized by the colourful images and enchanting sounds.

And then, summer holidays had arrived and Snape had found himself free from his annoying students and with a lot of time to spend with Connor. At first, he had nearly panicked: What was he supposed to do with the child _all_ that time?

The answer was so simple that it shocked him: the very same he did with him during weekends and every free moment he had. So they spent a lot of time playing chess and sometimes even gobstones and Exploding Snap (at which, to Snape's shock, Connor proved to be much better than him); paying visits to the Malfoys, Notts, or just other people Snape knew; visiting some magic places like the Quidditch Museum, which fascinated Connor; and many times just reading or sitting in silence in the living room. Even though Connor could read by himself, he liked Snape reading to him and to the adult's surprise, he found out that he enjoyed that activity as much as the boy did. In fact, Snape had begun to suspect he was growing rather fond of the child – a fact he'd have considered hilarious a year ago. Snape had never liked children and, due to his hard experience in life, he'd been fond of very few people.

However, with Connor everything had been completely different. He hadn't just become used to the boy's pressence in his life, but he realised he'd started to miss him when he wasn't around.

The house always seemed far too quiet when Connor was elsewhere, a funny thing as Connor was quiet enough. And to his own shock, Severus Snape realised he wasn't as fond of silence as he'd been before his foster son's arrival.

_Who would have gussed it? I'm growing soft_, Snape thought one night, right after the visit to the Quidditch Museum. But as he watched Connor sleep, an innocent smile curving his lips, he realised he didn't mind that much. At least, as long as nobody found out about it.

_Especially_ _his students!

* * *

_

Sirius and Harry had a good summer, even though they didn't go on vacation. Sirius took Harry to the park almost every afternoon and, when the weather was truly nice, they went to the swimming pool. Also, Harry went camping with Nicky's parents, and both Andromeda and Remus came to visit loads of times.

Summing it all, it was the best summer in Harry's life. This time he hadn't suffered his cousin's bullying, his Aunt's complaints and his Uncle's yelling but, most especially, he hadn't been left at Mrs. Figg's house while the Dursleys went on vacation, something for which he couldn't be more grateful. Mrs. Figg had proved she was a nice person, but Harry found her tales about cats too much to bear.

It had been a good summer but, like all good things, it had came to an end. Before they knew it, Autumn arrived and with it, the beginning of school time. Because Harry had turned five years old, he now had to start primmary school, much to his dismay.

Harry didn't much like the idea of starting primmary school. He suspected it wouldn't be at all like kindergaten, and he was afraid it'd be terribly difficult. Nicky's cousin, Adella, was in second form, and she said her teacher was a monster who made them write a lot of never-ending compositions. Neither Harry nor Nicky knew how to write. What would they do if a teacher forced them to write a composition? All Harry could spell was his own name!

When he told his godfather about his worries, though, he was disappointed to see the adult didn't take them seriously. On the contrary, he burst into laughter and it took him full five minutes to calm down.

'Harry, it's just first form. Most kids don't know how to write. That's what they go there: to learn. They won't make you write a composition on your first day.'

Harry wasn't convinced. 'Adella Tratchberg says it's awfully hard.'

'Adella must be exaggerating. If it were so hard, why do so many people go to university?'

The kid thought about that and had to admit that his godfather had a point, but he still did not feel reassured.

'Can't I stay here, and you teach me when you come home?' he asked hopefully but Sirius shook his head.

'Nope, Harry. I'm not a teacher, I can't teach you all the stuff you need to know. Besides, I'm sure you'll have loads of fun there.' Harry frowned. He wasn't so sure.

However, there was nothing he could do, so the following day he found himself in front of a large, grey building, which couldn't look less welcoming. Harry shivered and clutched his godfather's hand tightly. He shot a desperate glance at Sirius, a glance that clearly said _Is this necessary? Do I really have to go there?_ Sirius felt badly for Harry, but there was nothing he could do about it. He looked his godson in the eye.

'Harry, I know you don't want to go there, but you have to. And it won't be that bad, I promise.' Harry looked a bit more cheerful, but he still wouldn't let go of his hand. Sirius decided to try another tactic. 'Harry, you're a brave boy, aren't you?'

The boy looked up, puzzled. 'I guess so.' Sirius smiled.

'Yes, you are. You're even braver than your dad, and he was the bravest person I've met. So, as you're so brave, you'll go into that building like a man, won't you?'

Harry hesitated a moment, then put on a resolved face and let Sirius drag him into his new school.

That day, Sirius Black couldn't settle to anything, so worried he was about how his godson might be doing on his first day at school. He went to pick him up with a knot in his throat, dreading the moment Harry would come out from the building. What if it had been awful and Harry came out crying? What if the teachers were dreadful, or his classmates cruel? What if the lessons had been awfully difficult? What if Harry didn't want to go to school anymore?

Soon he found out his worst fears were unfounded. Harry came out from the building chatting with a boy that was at least twice his size, closely followed by Nicky and a couple of twins. His tiny face lightened when he saw Sirius, and he ran straight to him after waving a hand at his new friends.

'Sirius, you were right: it wasn't bad at all!' he exclaimed. 'All we did was play games and introduce ourselves and stuff like that. Our teacher is called Mr. Blewett. At first he looked very serious, but then he spent the whole morning joking. That boy over there (the tall one) is Jamal, and sits next to me. The twins (their names are Wilfred and Wilhem, but we call them Willy One and Willy Two) are in Nicky's classroom. They're all very funny, though I didn't like Jamal that much at first, he reminded me of Dudley. But he's cleverer, and he never hits people. And he's really good at football. During the break, we played football, and our team won. You know what? Tomorrow we're going to watch a movie. I don't know which one, but Mr. Blewett said we'd like it. I'm very curious about it. Ah, Mr. Blewett has given us a list of all the stuff we'll need. Here it is.' Harry took a paper from his bag and handed it to Sirius, who was too shocked to speak. There was a long silence as Harry tried to catch his breath.

'So, Sirius, how was your day?' he asked, after a few seconds.

Sirius eyed his godson, who had a huge grin plastered on his face and whose eyes were glittering from excitement.

'Not nearly as eventful as yours.'

* * *

Children that came from Wizarding families had two options: either they were homeschooled (by their own parents or by a tutor) or they went to _Muggle_ schools. However, children that lived in Hogsmeade did none of this; instead, they went to Mr. Banerji's school.

Mr. Banerji was an elderly man; tall and dark, always with a serious expression on his face. Many years ago he'd taught Potions at Hogwarts, but that had been long before Snape's time. Then he'd retired to live peacefully in a small house in Hogsmeade, but soon he'd found out that retirement didn't suit him: he was bored to death. Then, he found the solution to his problem when he heard a group of parents complaining about their children and stating that they didn't know what to do with them. _Eureka_, he thought, and founded the first primmary school for young wizards and witches in Britain.

It was placed in Hogsmeade, and his students were all the children over six and under eleven that lived nearby. At first, many parents had been reluctant to send their children there: Mr. Banerji was considered quite eccentric, and he didn't come across as the kind type. However, soon they were proved wrong: even though Mr. Banerji loved discipline, he also knew how to deal with children without terrifying them, and soon his school became very popular. Now, very few children in Hogsmeade were homeschooled, and there were some younglings that came from other parts of the country as well.

Connor looked forward to starting school, but Snape didn't share his feelings. So far Connor had had no trouble with hanging out with boys his own age, and no one had noticed how different he was from them. But at school things might be different. For one thing, Connor would have to spend more hours in other children's company, some of them complete strangers and much older than him. Snape knew too well how cruel children could be with anyone who was different from them. And Connor came from a very different background. How would he fit with the rest?

However, his fears weren't realised, as Connor's first day at school was quite uneventful. Within a few days, the boy seemed so adapted to his new enviroment that Snape thought that perhaps his fears were unjustified and Connor wouldn't have any trouble at school.

He was wrong, of course.

After two weeks, Connor decided that he liked Mr. Banerji's school. Not only did he have more children to play with than he did at Mrs. Frobisher's (playing with Vicky got boring after a while) but he enjoyed his classes as well, even though it was hard for him to stay immobile for so long. Fortunately he managed to do so, and Mr. Banerji was pleased to find he was quite a good student. Not only that, but he'd also reached some popularity among his classmates, due to his skills at any physical game. Even some of the older (and more arrogant) students were impressed with Connor's speed and amazing reflexes.

At first, Mr. Banerji saw nothing wrong in this, but after a while he began to notice little things about this particular student, certain things that were extremely peculiar. Like the time when Connor had been able to catch the book that had fallen from one of the shelves... one of the shelves that were two meters away from his seat. Or the log's incident, which had been much more worrying.

Mr. Banerji's school was on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, almost on the countryside, and it possesed a large garden where the children played during breaks. This garden was crossed by a small stream that marked the school's limits, and it was forbidden to cross it. Of course, that was the reason the students wanted to do so, and challenged each other to break the rule.

It wasn't a deep river, so technically they would have been able to cross it without any problem, but the water was so freezing that no one dared to put their feet in it. The few that had tried it had ended up with strong colds, pneumonia and their feet had turned scaringly blue. But, on the other hand, they had became famous in the whole school.

One day the younger students were complaining about how the older ones bullied them, and Vicky suggested that if they were able to cross the stream they would become important and the older boys wouldn't dare to bully them. The other children were excited, but this excitement disappeared when they realised they had no idea how to cross the river without freezing their feet. Connor's face lightned.

'Look, we could use that log over there as a bridge. It's long enough.' He pointed at the reamaining parts of a tall tree that had been cut only a week ago.

However, there was a glum expression on Geoffrey Hooper's face. 'No way. Miles Bletchley and some of his friends have already tried that, but they couldn't move it an inch. It was far too heavy for them, and you can bet it'll be heavier for us.'

The kids' faces sobered, but Connor merely shrugged. He was sure he could move it by himself. In Pylea, he used to help Daniel to carry firewood, and he didn't think this would be any different.

And so he got up and, to the entire school's astonishment, he lifted the heavy log all by himself and put it across the river. He stood still a moment, trying to catch his breath (lifting the log had been much harder than he'd expected) while his classmates, even the older ones, looked at him in awe. Before he could proceed to cross the stream triumphantly, Mr. Banerji came out and stopped him. The teacher had been watching through his window the whole time, but he hadn't acted before just because he couldn't believe a skinny boy like Connor would manage to lift that log. It had taken him a _Locomotor Tree_ spell to move it.

Mr. Banerji could have forgotten the whole incident (or not) if only a week later Connor's supernatural strenght hand't led him into more trouble.

To the teacher's utter shock, thirteen children assured how Arsenious Jugson, literally the biggest bully at school, had flew two meters after Connor had pushed him. It appeared to be that Jugson had been bullying little Claribel Puddifoot and Connor had jumped to her defense, pushing Jugson out of the way. Or maybe it was better to say _sending him flying two bloody meters out of the way!_ Jugson, who was twice as tall and thrice as wide as Connor! How was that possible?

Fortunately Jugson hadn't been hurt, and Connor seemed truly sorry for what had happened, but none of this managed to ease Mr. Banerji's mind, so he decided to take drastic measures.

When Snape received via Connor a letter from Mr. Banerji asking to show up at school as soon as possible, he expected the worst. In effect, Mr. Banerji was concerned about Connor's permanence in the school. He told Snape about all the weird episodes, and he stated that, unless the child learnt to control himself, he wouldn't be able to keep attending his school. 'Professor Snape, Connor's one of my best students. He's bright, most of the time he's disciplined. I'm sure he'll do great at Hogwarts. But he can be a danger to himself and others.'

It's needless to describe how upset was Snape at this words. He returned to his home in such an agitated state that he couldn't settle to anything for the rest of the day. His mind tried frantically to find the quickest way of taming Connor's powers, but nothing came to his mind.

Like many other times, it was Dumbledore who found the solution.

'Weakening Solution is your answer, Severus. Simple and effective.'

Snape hesitated. Weakening Solution could be too much for a little boy.

Seeing his worry, Dumbledore insisted.

'Connor isn't able to control his own strength, so we should do it for him. As for the effects of the potion on him, I think a small dose won't be prejudicial. He's a tough boy, Severus.'

Two days later, Connor eyed the blue bottle with some disgust. 'What is it? It smells funny.'

Snape reminded himself that he was a great liar (hell, he'd lied to the Dark Lord to his own face) and looked right into Connor's eyes. 'Do you remember the illness that killed Daniel, and that got Justine too?'

A shadow crossed the child's face, and Snape tried his best to ignore it. Instead, he brilliantly explained how it was very probable that Connor had the same disease latent inside him, and that it was necessary for him to drink that medicine regularly.

Of course it was all a huge lie, but Connor asked no further questions and from that day on drank the blue potion without complaining.

Snape, on the other hand, was surprised to find how much easier it was to lie to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than to lie to a six-year-old child.


	16. Chapter 15

**Beta Reading: **Joycelyn Solo. Many thanks!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Problems**

That morning things weren't going well for Severus Snape. He'd spent half of the previous night correcting exams of dumb Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, so the next morning it took him much longer than normal to wake up, but it didn't end there. Somehow he managed to burn the breakfast and had to cook it all over again, and then he had to wait for Connor fifteen minutes more because he couldn't find his school bag.

Utterly annoyed, he managed to get Connor out of the house just in time, but as soon as he arrived to the school he realised that his problems were far from over. The building's windows were shut and there was no one in sight. Intrigued, Connor and Snape went to the front door to investigate more closely. It didn't take them long to notice a piece of parchment on the front door, written with Mr. Banerji's flourished handwriting.

'It seems he's too ill to teach,' Connor said, sounding a little disappointed. It never stopped to amaze Snape the fact Connor actually _liked_ school, when for him it had been an endless nightmare.

He scowled. He didn't remember the last time he hadn't attended a class because of a mere _indisposition_. He sighed.

'I'll have to leave you with Mrs. Frobisher, then,' Snape said, shrugging. Connor turned to look at him, surprised.

'But, Severus, Mrs. Frobisher isn't at home. She went to Birmingham to visit her sister.'

Snape repressed a groan when he realised Connor was right. Now what was he going to do? There weren't other people in Hogsmeade he knew well enough to ask them to take care of Connor on such short notice. Besides, he was already late for his own class.

'I guess you can come to Hogwarts with me,' he told the boy, who beamed. 'But you'd better hurry or I'll be late.'

Knowing how much his foster father hated being late, Connor hurried after him, glad at the prospect of seeing Hogswarts again. Surely Hagrid would let him play with Fang, and maybe he could take a look at the Forbidden Forest without Severus noticing, or examine some of the castle's secret passageways. Either way, it promised to be an interesting morning.

Much to Snape's dismay, he had no choice but to leave Connor in Hagrid's care. He'd never trusted the gatekeeper that much, but he had taken care of Connor before and the truth was that no one else was available.

So Snape hastened to his dungeon, but if he'd known what was going to happen he'd have felt even uneasier at the idea of leaving Connor with Hagrid. But of course he couldn't know, therefore all that was on his mind that morning was the glum prospect of facing his dull students once more.

It's needless to say that Connor was delighted to spend the morning in Fang's company, while Hagrid took care of his work, fixing the roof of one of the greenhouses. Every now and then, Connor shot curious glances at the Forbidden Forest, and a couple of times he walked a little further away than he should have. He couldn't explain it, but he felt that the dark, bent trees, attracted him and rejected him at the same time. There was something in the dancing shadows, in the soft and yet menacing whispers which came from the forest, that seemed to be calling him. It was something he couldn't understand, something beyond reason.

Or perhaps it was just that it was forbidden, and therefore looked more attractive than it really was. Whatever the reason was, he wouldn't find out, not with Hagrid around. The half-giant wouldn't let Connor get a step too close to the woods.

Disappointed, Connor sat on the ground, with Fang's head on his lap, and he watched the mysterious trees. His mind wandered, and he found himself thinking about Draco Malfoy's upcoming party, in which the boy's father had promised there'd be tons of fireworks. Connor still didn't like Draco very much, but Theo Nott would be there and besides, the fireworks would be great...

_Clack, clack_.

Connor blinked and looked up. The sound was so faint at first that he thought he might have imagined it, but as seconds passed the sound was louder. _Clack, clack_. Connor concentrated on the sound. It was a horse. And it was coming from the forest.

He wanted to alert Hagrid, but no sound came from his mouth. Instead, he watched mesmerized at the trees in front of him, waiting with a hint of apprehension for the creature to show up. The steps were coming closer and closer... they were just in front of him... but why couldn't he see anything?

'Lad, what're yeh lookin' at?' Hagrid followed Connor's gaze, and let out a small 'oh.' Then he ran towards the place the creature should have been standing, and began patting and caressing an invisible form.

'Yeh're ill. The others're the same?'

Connor blinked. Had Hagrid gone mad? What was he talking to?

'Connor, I gotta take care of somethin', in the forest. And no, yeh can't come with me.'

Hagrid took him to the hospital wing, but this time Madam Pomfrey was too occupied (it seemed there was an epidemic among Hogwarts students). Hagrid didn't know what to do. Professor Snape would be mad if he took the boy to the Forbidden Forest with him. Noticing his dilemma, Connor piped up.

'You could leave me at Severus' office. I've been there thousands of times.'

To Hagrid's own credit, he hesitated a moment. Maybe leaving the kid alone wasn't a good idea. But then, he had to take care of the thestrals. They needed him. And Connor was a good lad. He wouldn't get into trouble.

After an hour in Severus' office, Connor was bored to death. He'd spent the time examining the glass jars and the weird things inside them, drawing miles of parchment and now he was reading one of Severus' books, called _Draughts for Dummies_. He flipped through the pages, bored. What was the point of reading about potions' recipes if he wasn't going to prepare one?

_Hold on a second..._

Some of the potions in the book were very simple. In fact, he thought they couldn't have been easier. Probably they were even easier than the ones Severus taught to first years. Some of them were so simple that he bet he could prepare them himself. He had helped Severus with his potions a thousand times. And he had all the ingredients at hand...

Half an hour later, a way too proud Connor Angel was walking down the corridor to Severus' classroom, a small crystal bottle in his hand. He was going to wait for him outside the dungeon and he'd show him what he'd done. He was sure Severus would be proud of him.

However, in this life things rarely turn out the way we plan, and this case was no exception. When he was just a few meters away from the dungeon, he felt something furry against his ankle. Looking down, he realised it was none other than Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat.

Connor was delighted. Even though he preferred dogs, he thought cats were great too. Or at least he thought so until that day.

Forgetting for a moment all about the potion he'd made, he kneeled to caress the cat's back. Any other cat would have loved the attention, but Mrs. Norris wasn't like other cats. She was the most annoying, insufferable little animal in Hogwarts, which hated children and nearly everyone else, with the exception of her owner. So when Connor gently caressed her back, instead of purring, which would have been the appropriate thing to do, she bit him.

Startled, Connor winced and the small bottle slipped from his tiny hand... and smashed into the nearest tapestry. The woman in it shrieked and ran away, and soon it became obvious why she'd done that.

The potion Connor had prepared was a simple solution to erase ink... and in this case was erasing the colours of the tapestry as well. Horrified, Connor watched the tapestry as a white stain spread over it, erasing the intricate drawings and mixing the colours. But his problems were far from over...

'What are _you_ doing here, little wrongdoer?'

As his eyes widened in terror, Connor turned around to face none other than the owner of the damn, extremely impolite cat: Argus Filch. And he didn't look happy. In fact, his eyes were also widening in horror and his face was reddening...which made him look truly scary.

Before Connor could react, Filch had grabbed him by the neck and began to shake him, bellowing all the insults he could think of. Connor did what any other six-year-old child would have done: he struggled, bit and kicked his opponent, and when all of this didn't work, he started to scream at the top of his lungs.

Snape wasn't in a good mood. One of his stupid students had almost blown up his cauldron, and to cap all matters the idiot had turned out to be a Slytherin, nevertheless. The other half of the class (those bloody Gryffindors) had started laughing and jeering, until Snape had risen from his seat with a murderous look on his face.

'Silence!'

Being mere second-years like they were, the children hastened to shut up and sit down, their hearts pounding in their chests. Snape looked really mad, and they had enough experience at Hogwarts to know that was never a good sign.

However, before Snape could open his mouth and tell his moronic students what he thought about them, a series of bellows where heard, followed by a terrified scream. _What the...?_

Snape ran to the door, with many of the students on his heels, and snapped it open. In the corridor, just a few meters ahead, he saw Filch manhandling a small boy while he shouted at top of his lungs. He couldn't see the small boy's face, but he realised at once he was much smaller than the shortest first-year ever.

'FILCH!' He strolled down the corridor, and harshly grabbed the older man by the shoulders. 'Leave that boy immeadietely! I don't care what he's done, set him on the floor _right now_!'

Filch might have lost his control, but he wasn't mad enough to disobey a teacher, especially Snape, who was one of the few that counted with his respect... and a good amount of fear.

Connor ran to Snape and wrapped his arms around his legs, clearly shaken. Snape grabbed him with a gentleness his students had never imagined he possesed and began caressing his hair as he shot Filch one of his worst glares.

'Now,' he said, with his most dangerous tone, 'I'd like to know what really happened.'

It took him another fifteen minutes to get the full story. When it was over, he noticed most of his students were staring at Connor and him with their mouths half open, which made them look even dumber than usual.

'What are you looking at? Go back immediately to your seats!'

Frightened, the students did so, but Snape could hear them whispering excitedly about what had happened. Great. Now his reputation was ruined. Or at least severely damaged.

'Filch, take that damned cloth to my office. I'll fix it later. And _then,_' and at this point, his tone turned into ice, 'we'll have a chat about the appropriate way of treating a child.'

The caretaker paled, but did as he was told. As for Connor, he seemed to be too hysterical to be able to reason, so Snape decided to leave him with McGonagall, who was the only teacher who had a free period. There'd be enough time later to have a long talk with Connor about touching adult's stuff and mixing potions on his own.

Connor was nervous. Severus hadn't talked much since the incident with Filch, and he looked positively mad. The truth was that Snape's paleness was due to his tiredness, and that he was much angrier at Filch and his students than he was at Connor, but the child had no way to know that.

So by the time they reached their home he felt truly apprehensive, and when Snape started his lecture he visibly paled. He didn't protest, though, and he listened in silence to his tutor.

It's possible that Snape's tiredness and the memory of his argument with Filch made him to be harsher than he intended, or perhaps it was just that he didn't know how to chastise a child without terryfing him (in spite of all he had said to Filch, he wasn't much better at dealing with children than the grumpy caretaker). Either way, the result was that Snape's lecture made Connor think that his actions were much worse than they truly were. Or maybe it was just the strict discipline Holtz had given him.

In silence, the boy nodded so Snape would know he'd understood his words, and walked out of the living room. When he came back, he was carrying a children-size Quidditch bat, which he handed to Snape solemnly. Thunderstruck, Snape looked first at the bat and then at Connor, who was paler than ever.

'Connor, I'm afraid I don't understand.'

The boy looked up at him and a different range of emotions crossed his face. The first one was surprise, then a feeble hope, followed by something that looked like resignation and finally, a brave resolve.

'It's to discipline me.'

It took a moment for the full meaning of Connor's words to sink in Snape's brain. _To discipline me_. For Merlin's beard, where had Connor got such a preposterous idea? Were any of his classmates treated that way? Or...?

_A severe-looking man, teaching a small boy how to hunt ("you'll eat for dinner what you hunt, nothing else")... The same man, talking gravely about God's rules and the importance of following them, no matter what, to a three-year-old... An argument between a woman and the man, saying that killing was too merciful... And then, a terrified and sobbing Connor explaining what Holtz had done to the evil wizard. "He cut off his tongue and his hands"... And the way Connor had talked about burning evil witches, as if it were the most natural thing in the world..._

_Of course. A man like Daniel Holtz probably thought that the only way to discipline a child was by using a cane regularly. Snape didn't notice how his knuckles were turning white. Of course, surely Holtz had told Connor that the physical punishment was necessary, that it was for his own good..._

_At that thought, a flood of memories invaded his mind, but this time the memories were no longer Connor's..._

_A tall, dark and hook-nosed man was pointing him with an ebony wand. "You know, son, that this is for your own good..." A woman cried in the near distance, "Darling, don't, he's just a child"... but when, when had that stopped his father before?_

The hand clutching the bat was shaking in fury, until Snape, trying to get rid of the memories as soon as possible, threw the offending piece of wood to the opposite side of the room. Connor winced, and his heart began pounding when he saw the cold rage in Severus' eyes when he turned to look at him.

'Never, ever again mention that way of discipline.' His voice was trembling from anger, and he still couldn't control the shaking of his hands. 'Understood?'

The boy nodded, looking much more scared now than he'd done before.

'Good. Now go to your bedroom, and stay there until I tell you otherwise.'

Connor nodded and hurried to get out of his sight with almost the same eagerness Snape had wanted to get out of his own father's way as a child.

Still trembling, he sank into the nearest armchair and hid his face in his hands. Merlin, this was so ridiculous. He was a grown-up now, his father could no longer hurt him in any way. He'd lost that ability several years ago, after his mother's passing, and after he'd sworn he'd never set foot in his house ever again...

And yet, the memories still haunted him, in spite of all the effort he'd put in blocking them... So much pain, so many regrets...

And that wasn't the worst part. The worst of all had been seeing Connor's terrified face, which had looked like a carbon copy of his own when he'd been a child.

It wasn't that Snape had never seen a terrified child before. Long ago he'd discovered that the quickest way to earn his slow pupils' respect was to scare them on their first day at school. Yes, he was aware that most of his students feared him at least a little bit, and he didn't deny that there was a part of him that was proud of that fact. He'd provoked terrified faces on his students far more times than he could count, and he'd never cared.

But this time it had been different. Not only because he cared for Connor (reaching this stage, Snape was ready to admit that he was quite fond of the child), but also because for the first time in his life he hadn't meant to scare him... But especially because it had been the first time he had reminded himself of his father, which was more than he could take.

Snape didn't know how long he spent in the same position, but when he looked up again he realised the shadows had extended through the whole room and that he was feeling hungry. He reflected that he should probably go upstairs and apology to Connor before preparing dinner, when he heard insistent knocking on the back door. Startled, he figured out that the knocking had probably been taking place long before he'd noticed it, and he hastened to open the door.

Standing in the doorway, wrapped in a deep red cloak, was Darla. Too late Snape remembered that this night she was supposed to visit her child. He was distracted from this thought, though, when he noticed she wasn't alone.

Standing next to her there was a pale, peroxide blonde man fully dressed in black, with a long, leather duster. Although he doubted, due to his paleness, he was really a man.

'Severus, this is Spike. I've told you about him: he was with me at the Sunnydale debacle, and he was the one who helped me out with the wish-granter thing.' She hesitated a moment. 'He can wait outside if you want.'

Snape pondered the thought a moment, then shrugged. 'It's fine. He can come in.'

Once in the kitchen, he slid into a chair and told Darla Connor was upstairs. Her companion walked out of the kitchen, mumbling something meeting the big poofter's brat, but Darla didn't move from her spot.

'Severus, is everything alright?'

He shrugged, trying his best to look indifferent. 'Of course. Why wouldn't it be?'

He should have known that someone as old and experienced as Darla wasn't fooled that easily. She called after Spike and told him she'd be with him in a minute, then she sat in front of him.

'Is there something wrong with Connor?' she asked, sincere concern creeping into her voice.

At first, Snape wasn't going to tell her anything, but then he decided that Darla was the only one who could answer the million questions that had came to his mind.

'What kind of a man was Daniel Holtz?'

Darla looked shocked at first, until she understood that it probably had to do with Connor's upbringing. 'Well, you already know what Connor's father and I did to him.' Yes, that was something Snape was sadly aware. 'He'd always been implacable, but his family's tragedy turned him into a merciless creature.' Darla proceeded then to explain how Holtz had chased them the following decade, and she enumerated not only the vampires and supposedly evil witches he'd killed, but also the people of his own team he'd led to death. Finally, she told him the circumstances of Connor's kidnapping, according to what Wyndam-Pryce had told her.

When she finished her tale, Snape's face was somber. Everything Darla had said sounded much like the idea he had of Holtz, which wasn't exactly pleasant.

'Why did you ask this? Has Connor told you something?'

Snape looked at her. Her eyes were fixed on him and she was twisting her hands frantically.

When he'd asked her about Holtz, he had no intention of telling her anything about what had happened. Not only because he wasn't much of a sharing person, but also because he still didn't trust her completely, no matter what Dumbledore said. The only reason he'd allowed her to take Connor out of his sight had been the Headmaster's insistence, nothing else.

However, there was something in the anxious glint of her eyes, in the frantic way she twisted her hands, that forcibly reminded him of the way his mother had used to fuss over him after he'd received one of his father's beatings. And that day he probably was susceptible enough to past memories, because before he realised it he was telling her about some of the stuff Connor had endured in Pylea, and then about what Connor had said referring discipline. When he finished, Darla's face was as somber as his.

'I should have known,' she said darkly. 'He wasn't going to be gentle with Connor, when we... well, you know. Slaughtered his whole family and all.'

Darla wasn't the type of person who tried to conceal her past faults, he had to give her some credit for that.

'What did you tell Connor? When he gave you the bat?'

Snape did not show signs of uneasiness, but he carefully avoided her penetrating eyes.

'I told him I wouldn't use those means of,' Snape pursed his lips in a thin, derisive line, 'discipline with him'.

Darla said nothing, but eyed him intently and he bet she'd noticed his sudden stiffness. However, she didn't comment anything about it, and instead said she'd better check on Connor and Spike. Suddenly remembering something, Snape called after her.

'Oh, Darla, just one thing else. Tell Connor he can leave his room now.'

Looking intrigued, she nodded and left the kitchen.

An hour later, Connor walked down the stairs hand in hand with his mother, chattering with the peroxide blonde about Merlin knew what. Obviously he'd forgotten all about the previous incident as he beamed at Snape when he saw him.

'Severus, Spike has an eclectical guitar! Isn't that great?'

Snape nodded, commenting that it was certainly fantastic, and Connor let go his mother and dragged Spike to show him something. Snape raised an eyebrow. Connor usually took more time to trust complete strangers, but it seemed that him and Spike had gotten along perfectly. He'd better watch out for the kind of friends Connor chose.

'Connor said something about what happened today.'

Snape jerked his head and looked at Darla. Great. Now she was going to recriminate him for losing control or, even worse, she'd go to Dumbledore and complain about him having Connor's custody...

But she did none of that. Instead, she gave him an amused smile.

'He says he's finally figured out why the potion ruined the tapestry when it was supposed to only erase normal ink. It seems he mixed a couple of ingredients in the wrong order.'

They stared to each other... and burst into laughter.

'Yeah, I had kind of figured that out myself. But he did it quite well. Actually, he did much better than many of my first-year students.'

She smiled. 'He's a special boy.' She shifted and hesitated. Snape frowned, waiting.

'It's funny, you know,' she said, in a completely different tone. 'No matter how hard you try to run away from it, your past always seems to catch on you.'

Half an hour later, the visit time had reached its end, and Darla and Spike were getting ready to leave. Spike waved his hand at Snape, caressed Connor's head and walked out; Darla kneeled to receive a kiss on the cheek from her son, who then ran upstairs. Darla was the only one who received that manifestations of affection from the shy child.

In the very last minute, Snape found himself facing an internal struggle, struggle that didn't end until Darla had almost reached the door.

'Darla, wait!' She stopped on her tracks and turned to look at him, intrigued. 'See, next Friday night I might be busy. Would you like to take Connor out or something?'

She frowned, clearly bewildered, then broke into a smile.

'I'd love to.'

* * *

It started in a quite innocent way, actually. Like most of the dangerous things usually did.

It was a regular Saturday morning, and Sirius and Harry were at the local supermarket buying food for their lunch. While Sirius tried to decide which products might be bad for a five-year-old child's health, Harry chattered, jumping up and down, about a school field trip that'd take place the following Monday.

Sirius was still amazed at the change operated in Harry. A year or so ago, he was a far too quiet kid, who seemed to be afraid of expressing any feelings and that had obviously seen too much. Now, however, he was a healthy, cheerful boy, and he certainly liked this version better. Just a few months ago it had been so painful to look at Harry, with all the sadness and fear in his bright green eyes. In spite of his physical appearence, he had looked so little like his parents (both people full of life and confidence) and so much like a scared little kid who had never received love from anyone. Sirius smiled fondly at his best friend's son, glad to see how much happier he looked now than he'd done when they'd first met. It made him proud to think he'd had something to do with that change. He owed James that much. And Lily.

'And the teacher says we might see a lot of squarrels at the park, like Chip and Dale ones,' Harry was saying, 'and pigeons, or perhaps it was doves, I get confused by them.'

'Whatever you see, I bet you'll have loads of fun,' replied Sirius, stroking his messy jet-black hair, so characteristic of James. The child beamed.

'Can I take some Kit-Kats?'

They were discussing about how much chocolate it was advisable for Harry to eat (and it seemed like Harry was going to win the discussion) when a high-ptiched voice was heard behind them.

'But if it is Sirius Black!'

As he turned around, Sirius begged it to be just a work partner, maybe a recent client, anyone except someone from his past. When he saw the person's appearence, though, he had to suppress a groan.

It was a woman only a few years older than Sirius himself, with a plump face and a look of perpetual curiosity in her eyes. And her clothes! She was wearing an olive green set of robes, and a pointed hat. She couldn't have made a poorer choice of clothes than if she had wished to attract unwanted attention on purpouse.

Sirius shot anxious glances on both sides, to see whether there was a possible way out, but it was already too late as she approached him.

'It's been so long since we last met!'

Sirius, who was more shocked than glad at the unexpected meeting, had to force himself to nod. In fact, he thought, as he eyed the woman again, he was much, much more shocked than glad.

'And... ooooh, I can't believe it! This is Harry Potter himself!'

Several people turned to stare at them, which wasn't surprising as the woman's shrieks could be heard from everywhere. Sirius decided he'd had enough, especially when he noticed that Harry – very wisely – had decided to hide behind him, looking apprehensive.

'Harry, this woman here went to school with your father and I, a few years ahead of us.'

Harry gave a tiny nod at the explanation, but he didn't look altogether reassured and it was no wonder, as the woman kept staring at the scar on his forehead as if it were the freakiest thing in the world.

Noticing this, Sirius hurried to say 'Harry, why don't you get some Kit-Kats? And you can get some crisps for the field trip, if you want.'

The boy hastened to do what he'd been told, more than happy to get away from that perturbingly strange woman. Sirius tried his best to hide his satisfaction. He'd sent Harry far enough so he wouldn't overhear the adults' conversation, without getting out of his sight. As soon as he was certain that Harry wasn't looking at them, he turned to glare at the woman.

'Bertha Jorkins.' Nothing in his tone indicated he was particularly glad at meeting her again. But, of course, one could always count on Bertha's own stupidity.

'Oooh, you still remember me! And it's been ages since we saw each other for the last time. You've disappeared so mysteriously from the wizarding world, you left everyone wondering what had happened of you. I'm not surprised, though. After the way the Ministry treated you...' Bertha sighed, but Sirius suspected she'd only done so to make her words sound more melodramatic. 'I'm glad to say I had nothing to do with it, as back then I hadn't started to work at the Ministry yet.'

Sirius blinked. Did Bertha work at the Ministry? He had to repress the urge to laugh, until he remebered that people like Barty Crouch and Cornelius Fudge still worked there.

'No one knew where had you gone, but I should have known you'd be taking care of little Harry, when you and James were so close. Oh, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am at his demise', she added seriously. Sirius stared at her in disbelief. Was she paying her respects four years after James' and Lily's deaths?

'I'm delighted to see you so well, and I´m sure everyone I know will be glad to know you´ve moved on with your life...'

Suddenly, the full meaning of Bertha's words hit Sirius, who started.

'Bertha!' he exclaimed, grabbing her arm. 'Surely you are not thinking of telling anyone about this meeting, are you?'

The witch blinked, surprised. 'Why not? It's not like you're a fugitive anymore.'

Sirius repressed the urge to twist her arm.

'Because it wouldn't be safe for Harry!' he hissed. 'Why do you think Dumbledore has told no one about me obtaining Harry's custody? Imagine what would happen if one of Voldemort's old supporters found out where the Boy-Who-Lived lives!'

At the mention of Voldemort's name, Bertha jumped, but soon composed. She glared at Sirius, and replied in an indignant tone:

'I would never tell a Death Eater where Harry lives. I'm not that foolish.'

In an instant, Sirius was reminded just how stupid Bertha truly was when they were both at Hogwarts.

'I'm not saying,' he whispered, trying his best not to sound harsh, 'that you'd tell a Death Eater. What I'm saying,' Sirius said every word clearly and slowly, as if he were talking to a small child (a rather stupid one), 'is that you could tell someone that might not be discreet enough. Have I made myself clear enough?'

A look of dawning comprehension appeared on Bertha's dim face. 'Of course! You're right, many people can't be trusted on such a serious matter. Don't worry, Sirius, I'll tell no living soul. Your secret is safe with me. After all, now that I work at the Ministry I have to keep secrets all the time. I can do it.'

It's needless to say that Sirius didn't believe a word of what she'd said. As soon as he could, he paid Mrs. Figg a visit.

The old woman listened intently to his tale, a frown forming on her face.

'But what was she doing here in the first place, for Merlin's beard? The Ministry is supposed to check that no other wizard or witch lives anywhere near Harry!'

Sirius snorted. He hadn't much trust in the Ministry's competence these days.

'She said that she was with a Muggleborn friend, visiting her family.'

Mrs. Figg nodded absently, the frown becoming deeper.

'Sirius, do you think we can trust her word?'

The man sighed. 'I'm afraid we can't. The Bertha I knew was incapable of keeping her mouth shut, and she doesn't seem to have changed one little bit. No, she won't keep such a juicy piece of news to herself,' he hissed through gritted teeth, feeling how his temper rose. 'Things could have gone worse only if it had been Rita Skeeter instead of Bertha, but there's no reason to believe Bertha won't go to the Daily Prophet and spill the beans.'

His fist slammed the coffe table, making the tea cups tremble. Mrs. Figg looked startled, and Sirius hurried to apology.

'Dumbledore will stop her' Mrs. Figg said, calm. 'He's the only one who can.'

Sirius would have liked to share her confidence, but he was afraid that, unless he erased her memory, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop Bertha in time.

In the following days, both Mrs. Figg and Sirius feared the arrival of the news. What if Bertha had really gone to the Daily Prophet? Most journalists wouldn't take her seriously, but Sirius knew at least one reporter who would. And, now he came to think of it, that wasn't even necessary. If Bertha started telling all her friends and relatives (or at least some of them) what she'd found out, sooner or later the news would reach the ears of someone inconvenient.

Nothing came out in the Daily Prophet, though, and Dumbledore kept assuring them that he'd strongly warned Bertha not to tell anyone what she knew. Surely Bertha wouldn't be silly enough to ignore Dumbledore's warnings, or at least that was what Mrs. Figg said. As far as Sirius was concerned, Bertha was more than stupid enough to do something of that sort.

However, as weeks passed by without unpleaseant news, Sirius began to think that he might have been wrong about Bertha after all. Maybe she'd really matured since her school days, or maybe Dumbledore's warnings – and threats – had been enough to keep her quiet. Either way, Sirius began to feel more at ease as days went by and soon he had, if not forgotten, at least got over his worst fears.

Harry welcomed Sirius' change of attitude, as his godfather had been acting in quite a strange way since that Saturday morning. Now, though, Sirius seemed to have recovered all his usual cheerfulness, so soon he and Harry returned to their normal lives.

This, however, didn't last long, as the first signs of warning didn't take long to appear. At first, Mr. Meadows, the next-door-neighbour, commented that some people had been looking for Sirius Black's address. Sirius tried to ease his mind telling himself that it proabably had something to do with his job, or some other perfectly normal Muggle affair. But then other neighbours started saying that they had been questioned about Sirius and, much to his own alarm, about Harry. Feeling uneasy, he hastened to tell Dumbledore and Mrs. Figg what was going on, but he wasn't really preoccupied until he received a call from Mr. Blewett, Harry's teacher, saying that he'd received the visit of a couple that had asked odd questions about Harry. When Sirius asked for further details, Mr. Blewett's description fit with a couple of wizards poorly disguised as Muggles, just to say that the man was wearing a dress and the woman a pointed hat.

The first thing Sirius did was to write a letter to Dumbledore, detailing what was going on, and then he decided to ask Harry whether he'd noticed people staring at him funny or approaching him with odd questions.

The child looked surprised at his godfather's inquiries. He replied he hadn't noticed anyone weird, and that he hadn't talked to any strangers. Sirius didn't feel altogether reassured. After all, Harry was a still a small child, and it would be very easy for an adult to spy on him without him noticing. But as he couldn't think of something better to do, he waited for Dumbledore's answer as patiently as he could.

Fortunately he didn't have to wait long. That very same day he got an owl from Dumbledore, commanding him to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible. Afer reading the letter, Sirius felt uneasy. With all the stuff that was going on, he didn't want to have Harry out of his sight, but he understood Dumbledore's urgency so he had no choice but to leave Harry at Mrs. Figg's, much to the boy's disappointment.

There was something else troubling Sirius, something that might have seemed silly in comparison to the other stuff, but that worried him anyway. From what Dumbledore said in his letter, he could easily deduce that he didn't have enough time to travel by Muggle transport, but as he didn't own a broom anymore and his fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo Network, his only option was Apparating. The problem was he hadn't done so in a very long time, so his worst fear was to Apparate somewhere completely different. Or even worse, maybe he wouldn't be able to Apparate with his whole body and he'd be split in two.

Soon he realized his fears were unjustified. As his Apparating instructor had said back in the day he'd passed his examination, Apparating was like riding a broom: you never forgot what it was like.

When he entered the dark inn, he was shocked to realise he hadn't been there in years. After getting out of Azkaban he hadn't been in the mood of going to public places, especially the ones he remembered the most from his first youth years. Naturally, the Leaky Cauldron had been the first place he'd tried to avoid. Too many people who might have recognized him, too many memories. He remembered spending entire afternoons there, with Remus, James and Lily, and...

Sirius shook his head. He'd sworn that name would never be pronounced by him ever again.

He couldn't stop feeling amazed at the little change the inn had experienced. In fact, he found that everything looked just like he remembered it.

'Mr.Black,' a hushed whisper came from his side. Sirius turned to look at the speaker and found himself face to face with the inn's owner, who'd lost another couple of teeth since the last time he'd seen him. 'Professor Dumbledore is waiting.'

Sirius followed Tom to one of the private chambers, trying his best to ignore the curious glances thrown in his direction and the hushed whispers behind his back.

As soon as he got into the chamber Tom hurried to leave them alone, carefully closing the door on his way out. Once the bartender was out of his sight, Sirius turned to face the headmaster...and with just one quick look at his expression he knew Dumbledore didn't have good news. And effectively, he hadn't.

'It seems that, in spite of all my efforts, Bertha hasn't been able to keep her mouth shut.' Dumbledore couldn't show enough signs of his annoyance. 'Arthur Weasley has told me he heard her commenting to some of her co-workers that she'd seen the Boy-Who-Lived in Surrey.'

Sirius cursed under his breath. Dumbledore ignored him.

'Arthur, as many others, thought she was lying. But from what you've told me, as well as other sources I have, I'm afraid many others didn't.'

Dumbledore sighed. Sirius waited him to continue, but several minutes had to pass before the old man did so.

'Sirius,' he began to say, in a tone that announced nothing good, 'I'm afraid that Harry cannot continue living where he is now. It is far too dangerous.' Dumbledore took a deep breath. 'He must be relocated.'

The younger man's mouth fell open. From all the things he'd expected, this was the last one. After he'd been taking care of Harry for a year, Dumbledore was going to take the child away from him! It was preposterous!

He opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore spoke before he could do so:

'Look, Sirius, the situation is much more serious than you think. Last week there was a major attack on Muggles, and we have good reasons to believe it was perpetrated by former Death Eaters. If our suppositions are right, then this is the most evident sign of activity of the supposedly retired Death Eaters since what happened to the Longbottoms. And that's not all.' Dumbledore's face sombered. 'It seems that not only Bertha's co-workers heard her gossip, as that day there was someone else at the Ministry of Magic. That person was none other than Lucius Malfoy.'

This time, Sirius didn't bother to lower his voice when he cursed. He remembered his cousin's husband well enough to know that, no matter what the Minister believed, he was as into the Dark Arts as he'd been the first day he'd joined Voldemort.

'I'm afraid, Sirius, that we'll have to find a new accomodation for you and Harry as soon as possible.'

Sirius blinked. Wait a moment, so that meant...

'You're not taking Harry away from me?'

Dumbledore looked puzzled.

'Why would I do that? You have been nothing but an excellent father to Harry all this time. Now, go back to Arabella's, and get some rest. Probably you'll have to move out tomorrow, or as soon as we find a suitable place.'

However, their plans had to be changed. That very same night Sirius realised they no longer had time left.

In the front door of the house Sirius shared with Harry, they found a painting. It consisted of two linked figures, which reminded Harry of Jamal's older brother's tattoo. He thought the drawing was weird and that it seemed to have been made by someone who clearly wasn't very skilled at it, but he certainly didn't find it as scary as his godfather did. Sirius' face paled as soon as he saw the drawing, as he knew it too well.

That very same night Sirius and Harry had to pack all their stuff and leave the house, escorted by Mad-Eye Moody and another Auror, none of them knowing where they were headed.

Before they left, though, Sirius took especial care in magically erasing the drawing of a snake inside a skull that had appeared on his front door.

* * *

**Jesse: **It's kind of funny to imagine Snape getting all parental, isn't it? Well, at least it amuses me. About the fic, well, yeah, my idea is to continue writing through their years at Hogwarts. Actually, in Chapter 18 Connor gets his Hogwarts letter and gets off to school, and I'm planning to write what happens with the other characters (Sirius, Snape, Spike, Darla and Connor) while Harry's facing his famous adventures. So don't worry, you still got loads to read if you want to!

**Luna Moonlight Fawn:** I found it kind of hilarious, too, the way Snape thinks it's easier to lie to Voldemort than lying to Connor. I'm happy that you've found it funny too! About primmary school, I don't know for sure, but it's the way it's spelled in Britain, and the English I've learnt at school is British, so I think I'll stick to it. Have a nice summer!

**Sadiler: **Wow, thank you for all your complimments! Really, you've made up my day. Thanks!


	17. Chapter 16

_Thanks to Joycelyn Solo for beta reading._

**Author's notes:** In this chapter, there's a reference to a disease commonly known as XP. The truth is that my knowledge of this illness consists in what I've found on the Internet and in a book of Dean Koontz, so please excuse me if there are loads of mistakes.

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Sixteen: Blood Kin **

When Connor first opened his eyes, he couldn't recall where he was. He rubbed his eyes and studied his surroundings. This wasn't his bedroom. For one thing, the walls were painted in a different colour and the Quidditch posters were missing. In their place, there were other kind of posters. Posters that _didn't_ move.

At once, he remembered where he was. _I'm in my _other_ bedroom_. He shook his head at his dumbness. _Well, at least I'm not the only one. Jacob Collins always says that he never remembers, when he wakes up, whether he is at his mother's or his father's house._

Of course, Connor's story was different from Jacob's. In his case, his dad hadn't divorced from his mum but died, and he lived with Severus, who was a very distant relative. Or so everyone thought.

He remembered spending his early childhood with some _Muggles_ that had adopted him after his dad's death, in some place called Pylea, which he barely remembered. Then Daniel had died and Justine got sick, so he went to live with some of his dad's old friends. That hadn't turned out that well: his magical powers had gotten out of control, and finally they'd taken him to Hogwarts, where they hoped he'd be able to tame them down.

They had returned to pick him up, but Connor hadn't wanted to go with them, choosing to stay with Severus instead, who adopted him. Then his mother had showed up.

At first, Connor hadn't fully understood why he hadn't lived with his mother in the first place, like any other child. Neither had he understood why he always saw his mother at night, never during daytime. Soon both questions were answered.

His mum suffered from a very uncommon _Muggle_ disease, called _xeroderma pigmentosum_ (also known as XP). It was a rare genetic disorder that made her dangerously vulnerable to sunlight. That was why her house curtains were always closed and she never went out during daytime.

That was also the reason why no one had given her Connor's custody. How was she supposed to take care of a child when she couldn't even take him to school, or to the hospital in case he got sick?

At least, that was the first explanation Connor got. The second one, given by his mother herself very recently, was that she'd been in such a bad state after his dad's death that she really couldn't have taken care of him.

'I was terribly depressed,' she'd told him one night. 'Which is a nice euphemism for "emotional wreckage."'

Connor hadn't understood all that she'd said, but he got the general idea and asked no further questions. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't like living with Severus. He adored his mum, like any child, but it was so much cooler living in Hogsmeade! And he was really fond of Severus. In spite of what his students said, he'd never been nothing but nice to Connor. Except when he was mad, of course.

He prepared his breakfast by himself (after all, he was nine years old already) and waited for his mum to get up watching TV. She always got up much later than him – but she was awake most of the night. Which was a good thing, because that meant Connor could go to bed much later than usual.

Severus didn't like it much...but this was Darla's house, and there only Darla's rules applied.

That Sunday went on quietly. Darla finally woke up and she and Connor spent the rest of the morning playing games and watching movies; then, in the afternoon, she helped her son do his homework. As she saw her child frowning in concentration, Darla thought that in a couple of years she'd no longer be able to help him with his homework. He'd be studying Charms, Potions, and all sort of things she had no idea about. _Well, I can always help him when he studies about vampires, though_. For now, however, she was glad just to help her boy to solve an arithmetic problem.

At nightfall Connor picked up his stuff and they left for the Leaky Cauldron. At first, Connor had been surprised that his mother knew how to find the place, when she was a _Muggle_, then he figured out that Severus must have told her and, besides, _Muggleborn_s' parents also went to Diagon Alley with no problem.

They used the inn's fireplace to travel to Severus' home (it had been a while since Snape had allowed Darla to do so, before that she'd used the Hog's Head's fireplace), where he was waiting for them.

Snape and Darla weren't friends exactly, and they were never going to be, but they got on much better than they'd done when they first met. Now Snape respected Darla and trusted her enough to let Connor stay at her home for weekends and, during school holidays, a couple of weeks. On the other hand, Darla had learnt to respect the taciturn man. He wasn't the most cheerful guy she'd ever met, but he was incredibly good with Connor in spite of his usual harshness. Besides, since she'd got her soul back she hadn't been that cheerful either. There were so many faults to burden her heart... something her and the Potions teacher had in common.

So when he offered her a cup of coffee she wasn't surprised, although she had no choice but to turn the offer down.

'I've got to work tonight, sorry.'

He merely shrugged. After all, he'd just asked out of politeness. 'How is it going?'

'Oh, fine. It's so much better to work as a receptionist than a waitress...' Darla suppressed a shudder when she remembered her first job. It had been a real nightmare, and that coming from someone who'd worked as a whore.

_But it has been a very long time since then, thank God. Although I doubt God had anything to do with it._

Darla said goodbye to her son, this time much more at ease than she'd been the first couple of times, when she still didn't trust Snape. Now, though, nothing troubled her mind as she saw Connor clutching Snape's hand, chattering about his weekend, convinced as she was that they finally were a family.

A rather untraditional one but, hey, who cared? It was much more than Darla had had in four centuries.

* * *

'Harry, if you don't hurry, you're gonna be late for school!'

Sirius ran into the kitchen, still buttoning his shirt. He wasn't exactly thrilled when he saw his godson dozing off over his cereals. 'Harry, wake up!'

The child winced, and hurried to put in his mouth as much cereal as he could. For a moment Sirius feared he might throw up afterwards, then he remembered that his father had used to eat the same way.

As soon as Harry got the last spoonful of cereal inside his mouth, he jumped from the chair and grabbed his schoolbag. When they reached the door, though, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

'Harry', he asked, in a weirdly solemn tone, 'have you brushed your teeth?'

The boy looked somewhat guilty. 'Sirius, we're already late...'

His godfather frowned. 'Harry, go now to brush your teeth, or otherwise when you reach my age...'

'...all my teeth will be gone or black. Got it.'

As Harry ran to the bathroom, Sirius noticed a piece of paper coming out from under the door. Intrigued, he kneeled and took it.

It was an envelope, but it didn't look like a bill, which was the kind of letters Sirius usually got. Instead, it seemed a very fragile envelope, made of...

'Parchment,' he muttered. When he turned the envelope, he saw his own name written in a very familiar handwriting.

Before he could open it, though, Harry came running down the stairs.

'I'm ready!' he exclaimed. Sirius tried to frown and failed. 'About time, kid,' he said instead, as they both headed to the car.

It wasn't until some hours later that Sirius was able to read Andromeda's (because she was the one who'd written) letter.

_Dear Sirius,_

_I hope you receive this letter at last. I've been trying to contact you for a while, and in the end I got so desperate that I practically begged Dumbledore to let me write to you._

_I'm sure you remember that three years ago, after your mother's demise, I agreed to take care of the legal matters. However, it was more complicated than I'd first thought. _

_As your mother didn't leave a will, naturally you should have inherited everything. However, as she'd tried to disinherit you, there were a lot of legal complications. On one hand, it seems that a parent can't leave one of his sons without herency, especially if there aren't any other heirs or a will. On the other hand, they can't ignore your mother's attempts to disinherit you._

_This turned into a legal war between Gringotts, which claims you should inherit everything, and Mr. Burkes, your mother's lawyer (Sirius remembered him all too well), who doesn't want to hearanything about it. Either way, both parties believe you should have the decency to show up and say something about it. _

_I know you don't want to hear about this, and that you couldn't care less about what happens to Grimauld Place and the Black Trust, but please, please lend me a hand. Everyone's starting to think that I want to get the whole inheritence! _

_One of Gringotts' goblins (I think his name is Griphook or something) and Mr. Burkes want to meet you next Thursday at the Leaky Cauldron, at half past nine. Please go or they'll try to sue me. _

_Both Nynphadora and Ted are fine. He says 'hi.' I hope you and Harry are all right too._

_Love from,_

_Andromeda_

_PS: Nynphadora's won another Quidditch match. I think you'll be glad to hear that Gryffindor is very likely to win the Cup this year. And the Puddlemere United is doing well too._

Sirius groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was to reunite with the nefarious Mr. Burkes (he'd known him since he'd been a child – and he knew enough about the lawyer not to trust him) to talk about Grimmauld Place. Hell, he didn't want to see the place ever again, not to say own it. Or – Sirius had to repress a shiver – live in it. As far as he was concerned, Grimmauld Place could be given to the merpeople and he wouldn't care.

Rereading his cousin's letter, though, he realised he'd have no other choice but to attend to the meeting. Andromeda had already had enough trouble, she didn't deserve to have legal problems because of his stubborness.

'Well, I guess it's true what they say: there's no place like home.'

And in his case, there certainly wasn't. Which wasn't exactly a cheerful thought.

* * *

It was right after lunchtime, and Severus was doing the washing up. Well, to be more precise, he was bewitching the dishes to wash themselves up. In the meantime, Connor was in the living room, reluctantly taking his school stuff out of his bag in order to start doing his homework. Why couldn't Mr. Banerji let one single day pass without giving them homework? It was _so_ unfair.

_Knock, knock._

Connor looked up as the knocking repeated once more. 'I'll get it!' he said, glad to have an excuse to put off his homework.

'Who is it?' he asked before opening the door. Severus was very insistent on stuff like that.

'Not a salesman, so you can open the door already.'

Connor frowned. Their visitor was anything but polite. From his tone, he deduced it was someone used to giving orders...orders that were quickly followed. His voice sounded somewhat familiar to Connor, though. In the end, curiosity took the better of him and he opened the door.

Standing in front of him there was a tall, hook-nosed man. His grey hair was short and well-kept and his robes, although they were old-fashioned, were in perfect state. There was something about him that looked terribly familiar to Connor, but he couldn't place what it was.

When his penetrating brown eyes fixed on Connor, the man raised an eyebrow.

'I thought this was the house of Professor Severus Snape.'

Connor blinked at the coldness of his tone, as if the last thing the man wanted in this world was to talk to him. The boy squared his shoulders and raised his chin.

'It is, sir. May I help you?' he said, his tone coolly polite. The man eyed Connor, this time more attentively.

'Are you one of his students? You look awfully young.'

Connor tried his best to hide his irritation. 'No, sir, I'm not.'

The man frowned.

'Then who are you?'

This time, Connor didn't bother to be polite.

'I think I'm the one supposed to ask that, don't you?' he snapped, annoyed. The man scowled at him in a way many children would have found scary. Connor merely ignored it.

'May I help you, sir?' he repeated dryly.

The man shrugged.

'Yes. Would you tell _Professor_ Snape to come to receive me?'

It wasn't necessary. Snape, wondering why the hell Connor was taking so long to answer that damned door, had came to investigate.

'Connor, what's...?'

He broke off in mid-sentence as his gaze met the stranger's. His eyes widened and, for a second, his jaw fell open, then he hurried to close it. He swallowed hard and said, with a stiffness Connor had never seen:

'Nice to see you again, sir. What brings you here...

...father?'

* * *

At half past nine, Sirius walked into the Leaky Cauldron, with the expression of a doomed man. Which was kind of the way he felt right now.

It didn't take him long to locate the right table: after all, it wasn't everyday that you saw one of Gringotts' goblins at the Leaky Cauldron during working hours. They weren't exactly sociable.

As Sirius slid into the opposite chair, the goblin greeted him as politely as a goblin could (that means not very harshly) and he answered with a slight bowing of his head. Before Sirius was able to order a drink, Griphook got immersed in a way too detailed explanation of the Black Trust current state and all the negotiations held with Mr. Burkes during those three years. From the goblin's words, Sirius deduced that Gringotts believed the lawyer wanted all the heritage for himself. Which wouldn't have surprised him at all, given what he knew about the man: he'd been his father's right hand for twenty years...and that said it all.

After ten minutes, however, Sirius began to wish that Burkes would arrive, only because that'd mean Griphook would stop with his explanations. He was already getting a headache, and they weren't even started.

Mr. Burkes arrived fashionably late for fifteen minutes, excusing himself saying that he was _so_ busy with all his other businesses. Sirius suppressed a snort. Burkes was just like he remembered him: a stuck-up old man with an arrogant voice and even more arrogant manners.

As soon as Sirius and Mr. Burkes ordered their drinks, the latter proceeded to give Sirius the same explanation Griphook had, from a completely different point of view, of course. Sirius was about to throw up.

'Wait a moment,' he interrupted, and Burkes glared at him in the same way he used to when he was a child. 'First of all, I want to make one thing clear: I don't care about the Black Trust or Grimmauld Place. As far as I'm concerned, either of you can keep it.'

He'd expected Burkes's face to lit up with his words in greedy satisfaction. But what he didn't expect was the lawyer to exchange a somber glance with the goblin and shook his head.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but that's not possible. By law you're the only heir: in other words, you'll receive your heritage whether you like it or not,' Burkes said. Sirius stared at him in disbelief.

'That doesn't make any sense. I don't want it. Why should I be forced to receive it?'

Once again, Burkes and Griphook exchanged dark looks.

'Because,' the goblin said, with the same patient tone one would use for a toddler, 'first of all, there are no other possible heirs and no will. By tradition, all heritage has always gone to male heirs' hands, so your female cousins won't get anything.' Sirius shrugged. Andromeda wouldn't accept the money, Narcissa had enough of it and Bellatrix... well, what would she want the money for, being locked up in Azkaban as she was? 'And you're the only male heir left. Besides,' he added, in a matter-of-fact tone, 'if Gringotts tries to keep the heritage, Mr. Burkes here,' he threw the lawyer a murderous glare ,'will surely sue us.' Burkes smirked and gave a tiny nod. 'And if Mr. Burkes tries to keep the heritage for himself, the bank will sue him. I'm afraid it'll be too expensive for both parties to face a trial like that, which could take years. So you're the only one who can receive it without further legal problems, and the easiest solution to our problems.'

Sirius reflected on what the goblin had said. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. _I wonder why they even bothered to call me, having arranged it all as they have_.

'What do you need me to do now?' he finally asked, resigned. Both of their faces gleamed.

'See, Mr. Black, you just have to sign a few forms...'

Sirius spent the next hour reading and rereading carefully each form Griphook and Burkes gave him, paying special attention the the tiniest letters. After years of seeing how his father made business, Sirius had turned rather paranoid with signing forms and contracts.

When he finished, Sirius covered a yawn with his hand and said:

'Well, gentlemen, it was really nice making business with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to do...'

'Oh, no, no Mr. Black,' Burkes said, in that odious voice of his 'There's something else you've got to do before leaving us.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. When he realised the lawyer wasn't going to continue, he barked a 'what.' Burkes smirked.

'First you have to check out your new property, meaning Grimmauld Place.'

Sirius paled from rage. He was so not going back to that place.

'I'm afraid I won't, Burkes. See, I'm not planning to keep the house for long. I'm going to sell it as soon as I can.'

Burkes's smirk became more pronounced, and Sirius decided he didn't like that triumphant gleam in his eyes at all.

'Oh, I'm afraid you won't be able to do so, Mr. Black. See, your mother was very insistent on this point: You cannot sell the house...'

* * *

'So, now you spend your free time adopting abandoned children?'

Severus Snape took a deep breath and turned to look at the man sitting in the armchair in front of him. 'No, father. I've already explained you the reasons I'm taking care of Connor'.

_Or at least I gave you the fake reasons I've given everybody else_, he thought. His father, though, still looked unconvinced. Of course, there was no surprise there. There wasn't such a word like "trust" in Saturninus Snape's basic vocabulary.

'I didn't know you were fond of children,' _Neither were you, and you had me _'And a child coming from a branch of the family we'd never heard of... and what a branch!' he exclaimed, pursing his lips. 'Squibs and Muggles, nevertheless.' He raised an eyebrow and added, in a quieter tone, 'I thought you've been raised differently.'

_Indeed. I was raised to hate Muggleborns and be derisive with anyone who wasn't a pureblood._ Severus shifted uncomfortably when he remembered certain things he'd done or said in the past about the matter, many of them not so long ago.

The truth was that he was more his father's son than he would have liked to admit.

'I had no choice but to take him in. I couldn't leave him with those _Muggles,_' Severus said, in the exact tone he knew his father expected.

'You could have told me, though,' His father continued. 'I mean, it's been almost four years, and this is the first time I hear about the subject.'

_What would have you done if you'd known, father? Come at once to stop me? Besides, when was the last time you've sent me an owl and vice-versa?_

'I was afraid the owl might not reach you, as you live so isolated now.'

They both knew it was a blatant lie, but the game they were now playing was one he knew too well. It was the game of lies and insincerities, of mid-thruths and thoughts never said outloud. It was the game of pretending they'd played his whole life, a game in which the most important things were the ones said in silence.

Mr. Snape's gaze got lost for a moment, in the direction of the yard beyond the kitchen where Connor was now playing.

'He's not very respectful, is he?' he said... but his son could easily guess the hidden meaning in his words.

'_You could have taught him some manners, couldn't you?'_

'What, like the ones you've taught me?'

Severus shrugged.

'He's usually a very polite child. I've never received any complaints about his behaviour.'

His father didn't reply, except by frowning slightly. He wasn't very used to being contradicted, especially not by his son.

A silence followed, a silence heavy with unspoken words and dark memories. Finally, it was Mr. Snape who broke it.

'So, you're still teaching at Hogwarts?'

Severus knew his father well enough to know that what he'd really wanted to say was: _'Are you still wasting your time teaching dim eleven-year-olds to make a potion to cure boils? That's your way of upholding the family honor?'_

And Severus knew himself well enough to know what he'd like to reply: _'Let's not fool ourselves, father. The family honor was already shattered by the time I was born. All we ever got was a good name and a pile of debts. No Snape has accomplished something relevant in the last three generations... not even you.'_

This time, all his father got for an answer was a nod.

'So, what are you doing back in England? I thought you were doing quite well in Russia. The climate suited you.'

Mr. Snape raised an eyebrow, one of his favourite facial expressions, along with sneering.

'What? Can't I just come to visit my only son now?'

_Son? Now you call me your 'son'? I don't recall you calling me that all the time you beat me up, all the times you called me a failure. I don't recall you calling me that when you forbade me to set foot in our house ever again, or at Mother's burial. Hell, I don't even recall you looking at me at all that day, except for the time you glared at me as if it were all my fault. Now I'm your son again?_

_I don't think so, father._

Severus forced an smile.

'Of course you can, father. What makes you think otherwise?'

* * *

Sirius stepped into the darkened hall with a sense of forebodding. Griphook and Mr. Burkes followed suit, and Sirius heard the latter whispering under his breath. At once, all the old-fashioned gas lamps were lit, casting a faint light along the hall. Sirius took a sharp intake of air and dared to take a couple of steps forward, the sound of which was muffled by the blackened carpet, and looked around.

At first, he couldn't see any differences from the place he remembered. It was still as creepy and unwelcoming as it had been back when he'd been a child. Actually, it looked even creepier and unwelcoming than it had done back then, although Sirius couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because since the summer after his sixteenth birthday (when he'd grabbed his trunk and all his possesions and fled through the front door, swearing to never come back) he'd been living in more homey places, with the obvious exception of Azkaban – although now he came to think of it, the prison hadn't been _that_ bad in comparison.

Maybe it was because of the silence. Before one could always hear the countless house-elves going from one place to another doing their chores, his mother's shouted orders, his father's heavy steps on the stairway or his brother's piano. Or, most probably, one could hear Sirius Black creating some sort of mayhem. Now, however, there wasn't another sound apart of the three of them breathing.

Or maybe it was because of the abandoned appearence of the place. Most of the furniture and portraits had been protected with grey sheets, while several layers of dust covered the floor and walls.

'Has anyone been taking care of this place?'

Both Griphook and Burkes winced.

'_Don't speak so loudly, Mr. Black!_' the goblin hissed. Sirius stared at them, bewildered. Burkes hastened to whisper:

'Your mother's portrait is very sensitive to loud sounds. If it wakes up...'

Sirius needed to hear no more. He remembered too well his mother's screaming to wish to provoke it. Surely the portrait couldn't be as bad as the real version...nothing could be as bad as the real version, but Sirius preferred not to risk it.

Griphook and Burkes made him to check every single bedroom, and there were far too many. Sirius began to fear he'd spend _hours_ in there.

He got to see, much to his displeasure, his old bedroom, which had been turned into some kind of storage room. No doubt his parents hadn't wanted to remember him. His brother's room, on the other hand, was intact. No sheets guarded the furniture, not a single magazine had been moved from its place. Time seemed to have frozen in that room – it was evident his mother had wanted to keep everything exactly like Regulus had left it the day he'd been killed by a fellow Death Eater. Sirius shivered. This was beyond creepy. He hurried to leave the room and shut the door behind him. It was freaking him out.

And then, of course, he had to enter into the drawing room, where he had to face the giant family tree of the Blacks. It didn't take him long to realise his name had been erased from the tapestry. He grimaced. He had expected no less. With another quick glance, he saw that Andromeda had gotten blasted too – whereas neither her husband nor her daughter had ever been written. No surprises there.

His other cousins were still there, of course. They had married purebloods, so they deserved to be counted as family. Nobody cared if Bellatrix had been thrown in Azkaban or if Narcissa had married a Death Eater – hey, look there, Narcissa had a child! Sirius got closer to read the name (_Draco? Arghh_) and the date of birth. He raised his eyebrows: he had to be about Harry's age. Uh-oh. They'd probably go to Hogwarts together. Poor Harry. Unless Draco turned out to be a Squib, but in that case Sirius was afraid there'd be a death date next to the name. He doubted Lucius Malfoy would want a Squib heir...

He was pulled out of his reverie by Griphook.

'Mr. Black, have you found everything in good condition?'

Sirius shrugged.

'Sure. Can I sell it?'

Burkes shook his head, the shadow of a grin on his face. 'No, sir. Your mother was very precise on that detail: the mansion couldn't be sold until ten years after her death.'

Sirius glared at the lawyer. It looked like, as he couldn't have it, Burkes was determined to force Sirius to get stuck with the damned place.

'What about renting?' Sirius looked at his surroundings. 'I guess not.'

'No one but a Black can live in this house, sir. Your father's spells took care of that.'

Sirius looked at the lawyer again. Ah-ha! So that was it. That was the reason Burkes couldn't get his hands on Grimmauld Place. And probably his father had taken similar measures with the Black Trust: No one who wasn't a part of the family would be able to put his hands on it. _Seems like your old client screwed you, Burkes._

However, Burkes kept on grinning, which was getting on Sirius nerves. And he still could see no reason for Burkes to grin like that. Until Griphook spoke again...

'Mr. Black, there's something else to the house. See, your mother clearly asked that one of the house-elves had to be kept with the house...'

'Which one?' Sirius demanded, but he did not need to hear the answer. His mother had only had one favourite house-elf.

When he heard the name, though, he cursed anyway... and this time Burkes did not try to conceal his amusement.

* * *

Connor Angel was walking on his tiptoes all the way downstairs, careful not to make a sound. He was usually very silent – like a cat, his mother used to say – but not silent enough. These days, even making the faintest sound could get him in trouble.

Things had changed for the worst at the Snape's House. The atmosphere in the house reminded Connor of a Muggle bomb waiting to explode. The worst thing was he hadn't a clue of what could activate it. So he was very, very careful. He wouldn't be the one who blew up things.

Connor suppressed a sigh. Only a week. Only a week, and the bloke had turned their lives into a living nightmare. Why couldn't he leave? Didn't he notice he was unwelcomed? Didn't he notice he was just bothering them?

The bloke in question was none other than Severus' dad, whom Connor was forced to call, very stiffly, Mr. Snape. _Thank God he doesn't want me to call him Grampa_. He shuddered at the thought. Mr. Snape as his Grandad! It would have been a nightmare.

To an outsider, it would look like Connor was overreacting. After all, Mr. Snape hadn't done anything to Connor. He wasn't deliberately cruel to the child, either – like Severus would have let him. He didn't try to spank him, and he didn't insult him... not directly, at least. But apart from that, he did everything he could to annoy Connor to no end.

Everything Connor did, for as little or insignificant it was, Mr. Snape felt compelled to correct it. If Connor did the washing-up, surely the plates wouldn't be spotless until he washed them himself. If Connor was walking down the stairs, surely he was making too much noise. If Connor was doing his homework, surely Mr. Snape would find something to complain about: his handwriting wasn't neat enough, his answers were too short or too long, too concise or too vague. The child couldn't even breath correctly in the old man's eyes.

And the worst part of it was the way he had to say things. If he'd limited himself to tell Connor what he was doing wrong, that'd have been it. But no: he always talked to Severus, as though Connor was too stupid to comprehend his words. And the tone he used! Always cold, always sarcastic.

'_Severus, I think you should tell the boy not to talk with his mouth full. Some people could find it disgusting, see. People with education.' 'I don't know if the boy's lived with cannibals before coming here, but he certainly could learn some manners. Like not snapping at other people. Or respecting his elders.' 'I'll be astounded if his teacher is able to correct the boy's homework. His handwriting looks like a six-year-old child's'._

Connor had heard more than once that Severus was cold to his students, even harsh sometimes. But he doubted he could be as thoroughly _annoying_ as his father was. Not a single detail escaped from his gaze, and it seemed like he had to make a snide comment about everything. It was worse, though, when he didn't say anything at all. More than once, Connor had caught the old man staring at him, with a look of revulsion and rejection that froze the blood in his veins. In those times, Connor felt there was something utterly disgusting about him, something the old man couldn't bear to see. It had occured to him more than once that Severus' father didn't seem to consider him as a human being.

And Severus wasn't acting very normally either. At first, he'd intervened whenever Mr. Snape started to treat Connor badly, but after a while he began to ignore his father's snide remarks and left Connor on his own. But that wasn't all. With every passing day, Severus became more and more absent. He barely talked to Connor anymore, and when he did, he usually snapped at him. It seemed like Connor's presence had begun to annoy him as well.

And whenever he was with his father, Severus became uncharacteristically subdued. Which was extremely strange, as people usually subdued to Severus' will, not the other way around. Connor had never seen him like this, not even around Albus Dumbledore. Hovewer, when he was in his father's company he fell silent... but Connor had seen his hands clenched in fists so tightly that the knuckles turned white, and he had seen the flash of anger that ignited his eyes when Mr.Snape didn't look... It reminded Connor of a caged animal waiting for the right moment to attack...which wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

Fortunately, that night his mother would pick him up. But lately she'd been acting oddly as well. Last time Connor had been at her place, she'd asked him more than once whether he'd mind meeting one of her friends. Every time Connor had merely shrugged and replied it was all right for him. However, that hadn' prevented his mother from sending him a letter in which she asked the same question.

What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn't like he hadn't met friends of hers before. There was Faith, the brunette who spoke funny (Connor had never heard so much cursing in his whole life – that is, until his mother had a little conversation with the girl about the appropriate language to use in front of a child) and the old librarian – well, older than Severus anyway – Giles. And Spike, who in Connor's humble opinion was one of the coolest people in the world – something that, now he came to think of it, didn't amuse Severus that much. So what was the special thing about this new friend? Why was his mother acting so strangely?

Connor shook his head. Adults were so weird.

He walked towards the kitchen, and glimpsed Severus, who was half-buried by a pile of books and rolls of parchment (the study had been turned into a guest room these days). He hesitated at the doorstep. Severus was so strange these days. Usually, Connor would have never feared him, but now...now he felt a stranger in his own home.

Before he could decide to turn around and leave, though, Severus looked up and caught him staring. He looked so tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and he looked years older.

Unexpectedly, though, a smile curved his lips. It wasn't a sarcastic smirk, but the warm smile he reserved only for Connor, which lightened his features.

'What are you doing, standing at the doorframe like that? Come in.'

Almost shyly, Connor stepped inside and sat in front of Severus, who put his books aside. It had been a while since Severus had focused his attention in Connor only, and the boy felt awkward.

However, all awkwardness disappeared as Severus began asking him questions about school, and soon it was like nothing bad had happened between them. Like Mr. Snape had never came to somber their lives.

After Severus asked him to bring the chess set, and Connor had lost two times in a row (_one of these days...one of these days he would be good enough to beat Severus right and proper_), he dared to ask where Mr. Snape was. Severus stiffened at once, and the child regretted mentioning it. However, Snape managed to keep his tone more or less cheerful.

'He went to visit some old friends, he said.'

In spite of his voice, Connor noticed there was something about it that worried Severus, so he decided not to push the subject. As long as the ogre wasn't around...

Snape hadn't realised how much he'd missed the little moments he shared with Connor. Lately he'd been so worried about his father that he'd neglected the child. _Seems like I take after my father after all_, he thought bitterly.

He tried to wipe those thoughts of his mind as he watched Connor struggling with a difficult chess move. However, his mind didn't want to cooperate. Every now and then, his thoughts returned to his progenitor.

What the hell was he doing here? Right from the start Snape had known he hadn't came all the way back to England out of fatherly concern, but that now he'd mentioned the visits to his old friends Snape's suspicions became more solid. Friends? Ha. His father had never had one single friend. He had had associates, though. Snape frowned when he remembered which kind of people his father's partners had been. The nicest one of them now owned a shop which sold a necklace that had taken the lives of nineteen Muggles or so it was said.

Was his father trying to restart his illegal business? If it was so, what was Snape supposed to do? Stop him? Ignore it? The whole thing gave him a headache.

And that wasn't all. With every passing day, Snape had been growing more concerned at the unusual attention his father was paying to Connor. He didn't worry about his snide remarks – after all, Connor was a tough child. But his father seemed to be very curious about the child's past and lineage, and he kept asking questions about him. He had answered as evasively as he could, and he had the distinct impression his father didn't believe him a word. Snape was afraid he might not be able to keep the charade much longer...and he feared the moment his father found out about Connor's true lineage.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the swirling sounds that indicated the Floo Network was being used. Connor looked up, a shadow sombering his face. Snape was filled with dread. _Well, it was too good to last. Welcome home, Dad_.

When he dared to come out of the kitchen, though, he discovered it wasn't his father who'd used the fireplace, but Darla. Delighted, Connor rushed past him and ran into his mother's arms.

Relieved, Snape greeted Darla politely. When Connor ran to his room to get his things, they made small talk. Things had changed a lot in these last couple of years, but it still made Snape feel a little umcomfortable whenever he was around Darla. He guessed that a lifetime prejudice – which wasn't so much of a prejudice as a survival instinct – wasn't that easy to get over.

When Darla was commenting something about introducing Connor to a friend of hers, the fireplace burst into life again and a dark figure came out from it. Snape groaned. It was definitely too good to last long.

His father brushed off the ashes from his robes, until he noticed Darla's presence. He stared at her, raising an eyebrow. This wasn't going to be nice...

At first, she'd looked a little startled, but soon composed. Smiling, she took a step forward.

'You must be Severus' father,' she said, extending a hand. 'You sort of look alike'.

Snape glared at her, infuriated by her last comment. His father, on the other hand, looked at her blankly, without shaking her hand.

'And who are you, madam?'

Darla didn't look a little bit taken aback by his coldness. Hell, she was probably used to much worse things than even his father could offer.

'My name's Darla Jones. I'm Connor's mother.'

He eyed her as he took off his cloak and folded it. 'I see the resemblance. Are you American?'

Her eyebrows rose a little, an amused glint in her clear eyes. 'Well, yes. Is that evident?'

His father narrowed his eyes, and as he handed the cloak to Snape – as if he were the butler or something – his lips formed a tight line. Oh, no...

'And you're also Muggle.'

Darla blinked, looking surprised for the first time. It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about. 'Oh, yes, I am.' She darted a questioning look at Snape. Too late he realised he'd never explained to her some wizards' – including his, all right – prejudice against non-magical humans.

'It's strange, because Muggles aren't supposed to be in Hogsmeade. We take pride in saying this is the only completely Muggle-free village in Great Britain.'

Her eyes widened a little, and this was the only external sign of her anger. 'I guess I'm the exception, then. I have to see my child somehow.'

He gave her a wry smile. 'Sure you do, madam. But I wonder – why doesn't the child in question live with his mother?'

Snape cast an alarmed look at Darla, but she looked unconcerned. 'Oh, hasn't Severus told you about my illness?'

Mr. Snape stared at her blankly. 'Illness? You look healthy enough to me.'

She smiled. 'Thanks for the complimment, but that's far from the truth. I'm not so ill not to see my son once in a while, but my sickness certainly doesn't make me suitable for taking care of him. Besides,' she added, with the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, 'I consider it's better for Connor to live with his own _kind_, don't you think?'

His father's face remained expressionless. 'If you say so'. He headed to the nearest armchair, sat down and, in an extraordinary sign of politeness, he gestured Darla to sit down as well.

'So', he began, once Darla was sitting right in front of him, 'how did you come to find out we were related?'

Snape opened his mouth to say something – anything – but Darla was faster. 'Oh, no, Mr. Snape. _We_ aren't related,' she said casually. 'It was my deceased husband's family tree the one that connects with yours.'

Snape stared at Darla. Was it his imagination, or had she and Connor's father just got married?

Before his father could ask more questions, Connor came jumping down the stairs. A frown formed on the old man's face at once, but Snape ignored it. Instead, he hurried to say goodbye to Connor, and he said to Darla:

'You'd better hurry, if you want to get to that Muggle show in time.'

Darla nodded at once, rising from her seat. 'You're right, Severus.' One sharp glance at Connor silenced him. She turned to face Mr. Snape. 'I've been delighted to meet you, sir. I hope we can continue our chat one of these days'.

His lips curved in something that was too tight to be a smile. 'Oh, I hope the same.'

As Connor and Darla disappeared in the flames, Snape decided it was a good night to avoid his father and decided to have dinner on his own at the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

When Sirius returned home, he felt like he'd been away for a year. However, it was just past noon and Harry was still at school. And yet, a lifetime had passed for him.

Going back to Grimauld Place hadn't been a good thing for his karma. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it certainly hadn't worked as a catharsis. Part of him had expected the place to remain intact, unaltered by the implacable time, exactly as he remembered it. The other part had hoped the place had fallen into pieces like Usher House.

But what he'd found was neither. The place wasn't intact, nor was it destroyed. It was somewhere in between, like in some kind of limbo. Like a haunted place.

Sirius shook his head. That house had already affected his mind, in a way Azkaban had never been able to.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to see it in the near future. Kreacher would remain in the house, taking care of it (or not, but who cared?), and Sirius would send him money monthly, and perhaps he could hire someone to check on him, but that was all he was going to give the damned elf. Sirius remembered him well: always trotting behind his mother, mesmerized with all her gestures and words... Sirius wanted to throw up.

But he didn't have to see Grimauld Place anymore, not even Burkes could force him to do so. Merlin, how much he hated the place. Even as a child, he'd hated the rules, the solemnity, even the furniture.

As he grew older, his hatred increased. When he went to Hogwarts and got selected for Gryffindor, things went to hell. He'd finally showed everyone what a failure he was, or at least that was his mother never stopped saying. And he'd begun to see how different his classmates' lives were, and started to wish his was more like theirs... Also, he'd begun to see how mistaken his parents were on so many accounts...

He'd tried to explain it to his little brother, but he'd refused to listen. He'd always been a mama's boy. It had hurt Sirius at first, but soon his sadness turned into resentment.

It didn't take him long to realise he didn't belong there, especially as his mother constantly reminded him so. She always talked about upholding the family honor – but Sirius just hated them all. His father, always so serious and cold; his exigent mother; the weak Regulus, the unbereable aunts and uncles, the bitch of Bellatrix and Narcissa the Ice Queen...

His mother had always said he would end up badly. She said that he wasn't either trustworthy or reasonable. She said he wouldn't be able to survive in this world.

_Well, guess what, Mother. It turns out you're dead, and so are your husband and your dear son, who was murderered by your kind. Your adored Bellatrix is in Azkaban, and Narcissa made a good marriage, sure. Married a Death Eater, the same people that murdered your favourite son, but who cares? He's rich and a pureblood, isn't he?_

_Can you see the irony, Mother? All you were so proud of has faded away. Your beloved bloodline has come to a dead end. Looks like I'm the last Black standing._

Sirius let out a bitter chuckle. That was true irony. He, as the last member of the Black family... the only one left to "uphold the family honor"...

He shook his head and went to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. He was starving.

As he did so, he took a glance at his surroundings. It was a small house, much smaller than the last one, and it was kind of cheap. However, as he saw Harry's drawings hanging from the walls, the photographs with both of them, and the indefinable, untraceable air of cozyness, he realised it was a palace. And soon, it would be filled with Harry's laughter, and they'd talk about what he'd done at school, and they'd watch cartoons or play Monopoly...

_I am sorry to disappoint you yet again, Mother. But I can't be the one to upheld the family honor. I won't perpetuate the Black bloodline. I have found my true family now._

He decided to make a chocolate cake afterwards. Harry would like that.

* * *

**Thanks to Luna Moonlight Fawn and Jesse for her reviews. I'm sorry to say that next chapter will take longer to update, because I'm going on a ten-days trip tomorrow, so I probably won't get anywhere near a PC. I hope you've liked this one!**


	18. Chapter 17

Sorry guys for the delay, Here it is, at last, chapter 17, beta readed by Joycelyn Solo. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: No Safe Place**

When Connor returned home later that weekend, the atmosphere seemed to have calmed down a little. Or maybe it was just Mr. Snape's absence: lately he barely spent any time at the house as he was busy, it seemed, catching up with old friends.

However, Severus was as absent-minded as he was before Connor left. The boy soon had a chance to find out when he saw how little affected Severus was by the news he gave him. News that, in the child's eyes, were extremely relevant.

'Mum's got a boyfriend,' he announced, without so much as a warning. At first, Severus didn't look up from the parchment he was writing. 'She introduced me to him when I went to her house.'

When Severus kept writting without saying nothing, Connor grew impatient. 'Hello? Are you listening to me?'

Finally, his mentor looked up. 'Sorry. What did you say?'

Connor suppressed a snort. 'My mum's got a boyfriend.'

For some reason he couldn't understand (after all, it had been quite a shock for him), Severus didn't look that surprised. 'Oh, really?' He eyed Connor carefully. 'How do you feel about that?'

Connor thought about it. How did he feel about the idea of his mother having a boyfriend?

At first, he'd been a little shocked. To his childish mind, the idea of a mother having a boyfriend was...weird. After all, all his friends' mothers had husbands, not boyfriends. However, later on he remembered that Jacob Collins' father had a girlfriend, now that he'd gotten divorced from his wife. Maybe it worked the same way for mothers. And now that he came to think of it, how would people marry a second time if they didn't have a boyfriend/girlfriend first? It was kind of silly, wasn't it?

'Dunno,' he finally answered. 'He seems nice. He's American, like Mum. She met him in Los Angeles some years ago. And he plays the guitar, but not like the _eclectical _one Spike has. His name's Lindsey.'

Severus nodded, but he seemed to have lost interest in the subject, which irritated Connor. For him, it was a very serious matter. After all, there was a possibility that this Lindsey would turn into his mother's new husband. He didn't know whether that would be good or not. But it was important, and Severus didn't seem to care.

Of course, it wasn't _his_ mother. Connor frowned. He'd never heard Severus talking about his mum. Was she still alive? Had her and Mr. Snape got divorced like Jacob's parents?

Connor shrugged. If Severus didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't ask. Instead, he focused again on his homework, although his mind kept wondering about Lindsey. He seemed like a cool bloke. It was a little soon to say, but Connor decided that he didn't mind him dating his mum.

Who knew, maybe one day he would get a little brother and all...

* * *

'Can I go to Stuart's house tomorrow?' 

Sirius glanced at Harry through the mirror, then returned his gaze to the road ahead.

'Stuart who?'

Harry let out an impatient sigh. 'Stuart Nevers. He sits behind me in all my classes! We've been friends for a _month_, remember?'

Sirius frowned in concentration (trying his best not to laugh at the way Harry said "a month" as if it were an eternity) until he managed to remember.

'A tall one with freckles?'

The child nodded. 'That one. Can I?'

Sirius bit his lower lip, knowing his answer wouldn't please the boy.

'We'll see, Harry.'

The child's eyes widened. 'But it's his birthday party!'

'I said _we'll see._' He grabbed the wheel a little tighter, making his knuckles turn white. Harry was a perceptive kid. But, after all, he was just a kid, so he didn't notice this, neither did he notice the tense tone of his godfather or the slight frown on his forehead.

'It's so unfair,' he muumbled, loud enough so Sirius could hear him. 'I can never go anywhere. And I can't even go to school by the school bus like all the other kids!'

_You aren't like the other kids, Harry._

Sirius took a deep breath and tried to relax his tense shoulders.

'I told you we'd see. Please, Harry, don't act like a small child'. _But he is a small child_._ So small, so vulnerable..._

He stopped the car in front of Harry's school. The boy rushed to grab his bag and jumped out the car.

'Bye, Harry. Good luck at school,' Sirius said, in a forcibly cheerful voice. The child turned just for a second, saying "bye, Sirius" somewhat grudgingly, and ran towards a crowd of boys his age. Sirius sighed. Great. Now Harry was mad at him over that stupid birthday party.

He tried to turn on the car, but the old engine took a moment to start. _Damned second-hand car_, he hissed through gritted teeth, _damned Muggle car._

No one who saw him with that poor excuse of a car would have said he was a rich heir of a large sum of gold. Neither would someone who saw his small house.

_But it's not like I can walk into Gringotts and exchange Galleons for Pounds whenever I want, can I?'_

After the second time his and Harry's whereabouts had been revealed to the Wizarding world (yes, ladies and gentleman, there had been a second time) Dumbledore had asked Sirius to be extra cautious. One of the things he'd told Sirius was not to go to Gringotts too often, especially not to get Muggle money. That would make too evident how Sirius was hiding. Hell, Sirius had had to ask for authorization to see that idiot Burkes. Dumbledore had asked him to have as little contact with the Wizarding world as possible, which meant he barely saw Remus or Andromeda anymore. Merlin, he didn't even get to see Arabella Figg anymore. He'd never thought he'd miss that mad cat-lover, but he sort of did. It was terribly lonely sometimes, not having anyone to talk about old times.

Dumbledore had also talked with Sirius about the potential danger new relationships could represent, last time Harry's address had been discovered. The old wizard suspected that someone Sirius or Harry new (a friend, a neighbour or perhaps a teacher) had given away the information, either on purpouse or accidentally. That couldn't happen again.

This meant that Sirius had to be extra careful with the people he and Harry related to. That was why he'd turned so – _paranoid_ – cautious with Harry's new friends at school. You could never know which family had distant connections with the Wizarding world, or who would talk if questioned.

Who would have guessed that the infamously reckless Sirius Black would be so distrusting? Who would have guessed that the most sociable and popular boy at Hogwarts would live like an hermit, without any contact with anyone? In the eight months they'd been living there, Sirius hadn't made a single friend, or at least an acquaintance to go to a football match every now and then. All his social interaction had been reduced to doing small talk with his coworkers or the parents of Harry's classmates, and one-night-dates with unknown girls in different clubs.

And much to his dismay, Harry's social life wasn't much better: Sirius made him turn down half of the invitations to other childern's houses he received. What the boy would never know was how much that pained Sirius. He knew very well what a ridiculously over-protected childhood was, and he hadn't wanted James' son to go through that.

But what other option did he have? Harry's safety was above everything else. Sure, it hurt Sirius to see how his godson turned into a lonely boy, but it'd be much worse if something happened to Harry. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Harry was hurt or...

The hate mail and the threats Sirius had received eight months ago (without Harry ever finding out) had affected him more than he would have liked to admit. It was true than many of them had been sent by loonies who probably couldn't hurt a fly, but there had been a few that were truly scary. Someone had sent a diagram of Harry's daily activities, and attached to it several magical pictures of him that had been taken at different times and days. Other letters had been more explicit.

That had been when the nightmares began. Dreadful nightmares, in which Harry was terribly injured or dead, and he saw James' and Lily's faces, both reproaching him for what had happened to their only son...

Could anybody be surprised that Sirius fretted every time Harry wasn't under his watch? Could anyone blame him for checking the time every few minutes when Harry was at one of his friends' house? Was it so surprising that his heart skipped a beat when he saw in the news that something bad had happened to a child, and he wondered "what if"...?

The only times when Sirius felt at ease were those in which Harry was under his watch, or when he was at school. The rest of the time, it was a never-ending nightmare for Sirius.

As he finally managed to start the car and drove away, Sirius remembered Harry's last invitation. He would have to give him an answer...but not now. Not now.

* * *

Severus Snape was utterly annoyed. It seemed like the whole universe was conspiring against him. 

Dumbledore had called an urgent staff meeting (why couldn't those take place during school hours?) that evening. The problem was that he didn't know what to do with Connor, as the child had refused to go to Mrs. Frobisher's again.

'I'm not a small kid anymore,' he protested. 'I could stay here.'

Snape raised his eyebrows. 'On your own? No way.'

Connor frowned, and for a second Snape thought he'd start pouting. But Connor had never been one of those children.

'Can I go with you, then?'

'I don't think so. No one will be able to take care of you.'

The boy looked annoyed. 'I don't need to be babysat! I'm nine already.'

In that moment, his father walked into the room. After casting one glance at each other's faces, he asked:

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing, Father. It's just that I have to leave and I don't want to leave Connor alone.'

His father glanced at Connor, then looked back at his son. 'I could watch over him.'

Startled, it took Snape a moment to realise his father was serious. He looked at Connor, certain he'd refuse...but to his shock, Connor shrugged.

'I don't mind.'

Mr. Snape didn't smile, but seemed satisfied. 'See? All settled. Now you can go.'

Snape realised he was already late. With one last dubious glance at Connor, and pushing his uneasy thoughts to the back of his mind, Snape left the house.

* * *

After half an hour of getting bored to death, Mr. Snape suggested Connor go for a walk. He accepted, and they left a note for Severus. 

Since he'd got back from his mother's house, Mr. Snape had been almost civil to him. Connor suspected this had more to the with loss of interest than with a newfound politeness. Either way, it was an improvement, and Connor tried to be as civil as he could. His mother had given him a way too long talk about manners, and had made him promise he'd try his best to be polite with Mr. Snape. Grudgingly he'd promised, and so here he was now, _enjoying_ – well, not suffering, at least – a walk with the old man.

As they got outside the village, Mr. Snape led the conversation, asking Connor a lot of weird questions, which the boy tried to answer as well as possible.

First, he asked how came he'd come to live with Severus. Connor gave him the official version, which for some reason didn't seem to satisfy him. However, he did not push the subject. Instead, he asked Connor how often he visited his mother.

'Once a week, and more often during school holidays.'

Mr. Snape looked pensive. 'Does she always pick you up?'

Connor nodded, surprised by the change of subject. 'Severus doesn't like Muggle London.'

'And does she stay long at Severus' house?'

'Hmm... As long as I pick up my stuff'.

Mr. Snape frowned. 'So she and Severus don't spend a lot of time alone?'

Connor was feeling more and more confused by the minute. 'No, sir.'

The boy noticed that his answer wasn't what the old man had been expecting, as his frown deepened.

'Really? Well, I gues that when you're around...' He fell silent for a moment, then he asked how long Severus and his mother had known each other. Connor shrugged.

'I had already been living with Severus for a few months when they first met.'

Mr. Snape was startled. 'You say they hadn't met...? Well, suppose they wouldn't tell you... What about your father? What do you know about him?'

Connor blinked, taken aback by his brisk tone.

'Well, he was called Liam Angel, but everybody called him Angel. He ran a detective agency in Los Angeles...' Connor frowned in concentration. 'He was very serious, but also very kind, my mum says. And Spike told me he listened to the worst music in history. And...'

Mr. Snape waved a hand to indicate Connor to shut up. He didn't ask him any more questions, but the child heard him muttering _"Liam Angel? What kind of a name is that?"_

Fortunately, Mr. Snape abandoned the questioning. Instead, he began telling Connor about the uses of the plants surrounding them for potion-making, and was surprised at the boy's sharp questions.

'You're smarter than I gave you credit for, boy,' he said, and Connor felt like a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. It seemed like he and Severus' dad were finally going to get on more or less well.

They had left Hogsmeade behind, and they had circled around Hogwarts' outer limits. They finally reached a zone where there were no stone walls. Connor was intrigued by this.

'Why are there no walls protecting this side of the school grounds?'

Mr. Snape seemed amused by his question.

'Well, because it's not necessary at all. See those trees over there? This is the border of the Forbidden Forest.'

Connor let out a stunned 'oh.'

'But isn't it dangerous for us to be so close?'

Mr. Snape laughed. 'Of course not, boy. Didn't you know that the creatures in the Forest can't abandon it? How did you think it would be safe for the students if it were otherwise?'

Connor absorbed this new information, and as soon as he did a new question formed in his mind.

'And can people go into the school grounds from here?'

Mr. Snape raised an eyebrow. 'You mean, if they are mad enough to go in there? No, I don't think so. I mean, they can go into the woods, but they can't go to the school grounds. No matter in which direction they walked, they'd end up getting out through the same way they got in. Otherwise, the castle wouldn't be so safe.'

The boy nodded, as he kicked a little stone out of his way. They continued slowly walking along the border of the forest in silence. Connor kept darting curious glances at the dark trees, in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse of any of the creatures that lived there. However, the shadows closed in like a veil, concealing the mysteries of the woods. Probably this would be the last time he'd be so close to the Forbidden Forest, and also the last time to see why it was forbidden... He shook his head. He'd better not think like that. Last time he'd asked, in a little too eager tone, what was inside the Forest, Hagrid had paled. 'Not thinkin' of goin' in 'ere, are yeh,' he'd asked, concern creeping into his voice. 'Of course not,' Connor had replied...without looking at him in the eye.

He noticed that Mr. Snape was shooting a glance at his golden clock again . He'd been doing it a lot in the last ten minutes. Perhaps it was getting late. He was thinking that maybe he should suggest going back before Severus' meeting was over, when the old man turned to face him, an unreadable expression on his face.

'Connor,' he spoke, and the boy was surprised to hear the anxiety in his voice, 'would you mind waiting a little while here? I have to go to...check something.'

The child was surprised to see him twisting his hands nervously. He frowned. The man kept looking at him expectantly.

'Hmm, will it take long? 'Cause Severus might worry...'

The man hastened to shake his head. 'Oh, no, not at all. Ten minutes at most.'

Connor guessed that Mr. Snape wouldn't tell him what he was up to, so he merely shrugged. 'Ok.'

Mr. Snape smiled at him, a _real_ smile. Connor automatically returned the smile, but a feeling of uneasiness revolved in the pit of his stomach, although he couldn't explain where it had come from.

The old man patted his back, muttering 'good boy' and, to the child's shock, he headed towards the woods.

'Wait,' he called after him. 'Are you going into the Forbidden Forest?'

Mr. Snape didn't bother to turn. He merely waved a hand, as if it were unimportant.

'Just the first line of trees. Don't worry,' he added, and something in his tone made Connor even more nervous, 'the dangerous creatures hide in the centre'.

And then, the shadows just engulfed him and Connor didn't see him anymore.

* * *

Harry sank down into his seat, deflated. Stuart sat next to him, a little frown on his face. 

'Why wouldn't your godfather let you come to my party?'

Harry shrugged, feeling even more depressed at not knowing the answer. Stuart shook his head.

'He never lets you go anywhere,' he exclaimed, annoyed, as he began pulling out his stuff from his bag.

Harry would have liked to say that wasn't true. Sirius let him go to a lot of places...but only when he was around to watch over him.

As he mused on the world's general unfairness, he felt a knock on the back of his head. He turned around and saw, at the end of the class, a group of boys giggling and making paper balls...and using them as projectiles, it seemed. According to Harry's unfortunate experience, in every school there was a gang of bullies that existed only to make your life miserable. Harry glared at them and turned to face the blackboard. There wasn't much he could do as they were thrice his size.

Eventually, the boys stopped throwing paper balls at Harry, and aimed for the girls instead. They made a funnier target as they shrieked every time they were hit.

Then they began throwing balls at the duster bin, which was in the opposite side of the room. When this got boring, one of them pulled out a lighter and had a great idea: it would be way more funny if they ignited the balls.

They did so, and it was certainly more entertaining to send the flaming – well, not flaming, but certainly smoking – balls fly across the room whenever the teacher wasn't looking. And by the time they reached the bin, the balls weren't burning anymore.

However, one of the balls that fell into the nearly full bin was still burning. The boys didn't notice this. The teacher had finally gotten tired of their misbehavior and had started to give them a severe lecture.

Meanwhile, a thin and almost invisible column of smoke rose from the bin, all the class oblivious to it.

* * *

Severus returned home only to find it unnaturally quiet. At first, a stupid fear filled him: what if they had killed each other or something? Then more rational fears invaded him: what if one of them had gotten injured or sick and they were at St. Mungo's? What if...? 

Fortunately, it didn't take him long to find the note. However, he didn't feel altogether reassured when he read it. They had gone out for a _walk_? His father and Connor together? It sounded strange. Once again, creepy thoughts invaded his mind. What if his father took the chance he was alone with Connor and he...?

He _what_? His father was already an old man, and Severus didn't doubt Connor could beat him at a race. And what would his father do anyway? Try to discipline him? His father wasn't that interested in Connor to do that, especially knowing what Snape's reaction would be.

He shook his head. He was becoming overly paranoid. His father and Connor would return soon, and then he'd see that the boy was all right and that his fears were unfounded.

Feeling a little more relaxed, Snape proceeded to take off his cloak and pour himself a glass of firewhisky. He had just made himself comfortable in his favourite armchair when the fireplace burst to life.

Startled, he jumped on his feet, nearly dropping the glass – and its contents – on the carpet. Who the hell...?

His question was soon answered when the familiar form of Darla stepped out from the fire, closely followed by her freaky friend Spike.

Snape blinked, confused. Was this one of the days Darla picked up Connor and he'd just forgotten? No, it was a Tuesday, so it couldn't be. Perhaps there was something wrong?

'Hello, Darla. Spike,' he adressed them cautiously. They didn't look very well. Darla seemed tired, and the other vampire looked angry over something. Secretly, Snape hoped it wasn't him, then he repressed the cowardly thought.

'Hello, Severus.' Darla sighed. 'Sorry to come over like this but, see, there's a problem...'

Snape raised his eyebrows, not saying nothing that could commit him. At least he knew it had nothing to do with Connor.

'See,' Darla continued, when she realised Snape wasn't going to say anything else, 'you remember what I told you about the army of Slayers, right?' Snape nodded. He'd heard the story quite a few times. 'Well, Spike and I are helping them, as you know. It seems that there's a major problem of the demoniac kind in Ireland, and I remembered you had a book that might help...'

Snape almost let out a sigh of relief. A book. All they wanted was a book. _Thank Merlin.

* * *

_

Five minutes.

Connor had sat down against a rock, facing the mysterious forest. He examined his surroundings and entertained himself watching a flobberworm. Well, not like a flobberworm was that entertaining but...

Ten minutes.

He kept darting glances at the twisted trees, but saw no sign of Mr. Snape. But it had only been ten minutes. Connor began to try to perform juggling with some stones, failing miserably. And every now and then, he glanced back at the trees.

Fifteen minutes.

No signs of Mr. Snape yet. His surroundings had grown darker as night closed in on him. He didn't mind the darkness, though. In fact, he kind of like it. For some reason, he felt much more comfortable in the shadows than most people. Connor couldn't explain it, but at night it was like he felt more...alive. His senses seemed to sharpen: his eyesight became superb, his nostrils were filled with a dozen of intriguing smells and all the noises became clearer, while all his muscles tensed in expectation.

Like now. All his senses were alert, and he felt that he wouldn't be able to remain still much longer. His whole body seemed to be screaming for some action.

And the forest kept catching his gaze...

He shook his head. Soon Mr. Snape would come and they would return home. He'd better calm himself down.

Twenty minutes.

Connor wondered whether there might be something wrong. Could something bad have happened to Mr. Snape?.

Twenty-five minutes.

Slowly, Connor rose from the ground. He hesitated, then he took a step forward.

'Mr. Snape? Are you there,' he called in a hushed whisper. He didn't want to attract any creatures. In spite of what the old man had said, he still didn't feel altogether reassured on that matter.

He listened intently, but all that reached his ears were the whispers of the winds moving along the tress, bending slightly the grass as it passed, and a distant sound he couldn't identify, but that certainly didn't sound like a human voice or footsteps.

'Mr. Snape? Heeelloooo,' he called again, a little louder, and waited.

Thirty minutes.

Connor looked in both directions. Should he get some help or something? But perhaps it was nothing serious, and Mr. Snape might be mad at him for making a fuss. Maybe he could go to look for him on his own...

His gaze returned to the somber trees, full of surprises hidden in shadows and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

Since the first time he'd seen it, the Forbidden Forest had seemed to be calling him. Or perhaps he was just a little too curious for his own good.

He took a step forward and scrutinized the darkness. Nope, no sign of Mr. Snape. He took another step.

It would do no harm if he investigated a little, right? After all, this was probably his last chance to see the forest this close.

Another step. He felt dragged to the woods, as if he were being attracted by a magnet.

He hesitated a moment. It was a dangerous thing that he was doing. Wasn't it?

Well, Mr. Snape had said that the dangerous creatures were in the centre, hadn't he? So it wouldn't be so bad if he walked into the first line of trees...

And Connor took the final step into the shadows, without looking back.

* * *

It happened so fast that nobody had time to react. One moment, everything was almost normal – except for the tiny detail that a thickening column of smoke was coming out from the duster bin, that is. The next minute, the wind blew one of the curtains, making it touch the bin...and get in fire. 

The curtains ignited fastly (they were made of a cheap plastic fabric), and the fire spread to the posters hanging on the walls next to the door. By this time, everyone had noticed what was going on, but it was already too late: a part of the curtains and some of the posters fell to the ground, in flames...just in front of the door.

The children shrieked, boys and girls alike, and the teacher tried to calm them down and control the situation. One of the children, though, had more initiative than the rest and made a logical mistake: he opened the window that was closest to him. The fire, instead of fading away, made combustion with the intake of oxygen and spread...to the wooden door, which began to burn.

Now there was no way the teacher could keep the children in control: when they saw how their one way out was engulfed by the fire, they began to scream at top of their lungs.

The poor man didn't know what to do. Preventing the students from panicking was already out of question, as their way out was covered in flames, and the fire extinguishers were in the hallway. So he did the only thing he could do.

His voice rose above his students', who fell silent. He called them to get as far from the fire as possible, and made them kneel under the desks. The following was to indicate them to breath through their T-shirts, and to inhale as little smoke as possible. Then he closed the window, hoping that the lack of oxygen would help to extinguish the fire.

Lastly, he did the only thing he could think of.

He shouted for help.

* * *

Tall, black trees rose to the sky, forming an impenetrable roof over Connor's head that almost completely blocked the rays of moonlight, leaving the forest in complete darkness. 

He didn't mind, though. His excellent eyesight adjusted in few seconds, and soon he no longer tripped over the tangled roots and stretched branches that threatened to hit his face.

'Mr. Snape?' he whispered. He listened intently, but no sound reached his ears. The woods had fallen in a grave silence, only broken by the soft whisper of a breeze agitating the black trees' leaves.

He was going to call again, louder this time, but he refrained the impulse. Something told him it would be unwise to raise his voice and disturbe the forest's peaceful silence.

It didn't seem peaceful, though. Actually, Connor had the distinct impression that the sudden silence surrounding him was anything but peaceful. He couldn't explain it, but there was a tingling on the back of his neck, something that exalted his nerves. Eletricity ran through his veins, and all his body was filled with a sensation of expectation. He felt something was going to happen, and it seemed like the forest felt it too, and that everything in there – the trees, the grass, even the breeze – was holding its breath.

He was so embedded in these feelings and sensations that he didn't hear the inaudible steps behind him; he didn't sense the way too fast creatures coming closer; his superb eyesight wasn't enough to glimpse them surrounding him.

And no one could blame Connor for that. After all, their feet barely touched the ground and they knew how to move silently; their bodies didn't need to breath; their eyesight was way better than his; they knew how to take the wind's direction as an advantage, and especially they were very experienced in the art of hunting their prey without it noticing. Connor didn't stand a chance.

By the time he realised they had surrounded him, it was already too late to escape.

* * *

The dusty volume Darla had been reading fell from her trembling fingers with a thump that startled both Snape and Spike, who turned to face her. 

'What's wrong, pet? Found something?'

Darla shook her head, and when she looked up they saw that her clear eyes were wide with fear. Both men looked at each other, none of them knowing what was going on. They looked back at her expectantly, but she seemed unable to speak. Whatever had happened, it had clearly terrified her. Snape felt uneasy. What in this world could terrify someone like Darla?

Seconds seemed to extend forever. Finally, she was able to say in a hushed whisper:

'Connor. He's in danger.'

And she didn't need to say anything else, because within mere seconds Snape and Spike had jumped on their feet and fled through the door, Darla following them closely.

* * *

The heat in the room increased until it resembled the Fifth Circle of Hell, while the thick smoke blackened the air. 

The children had their noses pressed against the floor and were breathing through their clothes. However, many of them had already inhaled too much smoke: some were coughing; others were already showing slight signs of apshyxia, and a couple of them were about to faint from fear and lack of oxygen. Many of the children were crying silently – or perhaps it was just the sound of the fire consuming the room that engulfed their terrified sobs.

Horrified, the teacher saw the sparks coming closer to one of the desks. In his feverish mind, he already saw the desk on fire and the flames spreading to the other deks, and then...

He tried to clear his mind. _Why wasn't help coming? Why were they taking so long?_ The bloody fire extinguisher was just at the other end of the hallway... How long could it take to grab it and save them?

Or... A hideous thought came to his mind. Was it possible that no one had realised what was going on? Was it possible that the other teachers were still teaching calmly in their classrooms, unaware of the fact they were trapped in a burning hell?

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down, as panicking wasn't going to help...then he remembered the smoke and refrained the impulse.

Perhaps they hadn't had time yet to react. After all, the fire had spread so quickly... He tried to see how much time had passed, but the smoke and the sweat covering his eyes blurred his sight to the point he couldn't make out what the watch indicated anymore.

Time elapsed, turning nanoseconds into pieces of eternity. His mind seemed to drift away and confused, ilogical thoughts kept coming to him. He'd heard, more than pnce, that the main cause people died during a fire wasn't out of burns or asphyxia, but stupidity. Not only were their senses confused due to the panic they felt, but also the smoke in their lungs and the lack of oxygen occluded their minds, preventing them from thinking clearly. Many people ended up dying because they had walked in the opposite direction from the nearest exit; or because they lost precious minutes in nonsense, or because...

...they crept on their stomachs straight to the line of fire! He blinked, unwilling to believe what his eyes were seeing. One of the children – a small boy with dark hair and black-rimmed glasses – was creeping his way making a beeline to the flames. The teacher opened his mouth to call out the name his name... and realised that suddenly that bit of information had been erased from his mind. How could he have forgotten the name of one of his students just like that? And who in heaven's sake _cared_?

The man opened his mouth once more, but a gulp of thick smoke entered in his lungs and he bent in a coughing fist. He jerked so violently that his forehead hit the floor, and to his horror he realised he was finally slipping into unconsciousness...

* * *

_Trapped_. 

Wherever Connor turned to, he saw the tight circle of people, standing so close to each other that left not a single gap to escape. And they didn't look that much like people.

Connor had seen those ridged faces before, and that hungry look in their eyes, but _where_?

When some of them smirked, showing Connor their pointed, ivory-white teeth, he remembered. They appeared in one of Severus' books. The one about dark creatures and beings.

Connor even remembered the caption under the picture: _This is what the real face of a vampire looks like..._

Vampires. He hadn't even known that there were vampires in the Forbidden Forest. And now he was face to face with at least a dozen of them. A dozen of bloodthirsty vampires that were much faster, much stronger than him. He was only one. Without a wand. Without a weapon. Without anything.

His mind went blank from panic. Only one coherent thought remained.

_Oh-oh. I'm so dead_.

* * *

Snape was running as fast as he could, and in spite of that he was having trouble keeping up with Darla and Spike, who were moving faster than he would have believed possible. 

However, a part of him felt they weren't moving fast enough. After all, it was _Connor_ who was out there, on his own, facing Merlin knew what terrible danger. Every second that went by, every step, represented a nightmare for the child. And if Snape had learnt something about himself in the last couple of years, was that he preferred to lose his right arm before letting something bad happen to Connor.

Apparating would have been faster, but that would have meant leaving Spike and Darla behind, and he wasn't sure whether that'd be for the best, especially as they didn't know what they'd face. Besides, he hadn't a clue of where Connor was. He would have liked to perform a Locating Spell, but those took way too long. Time wasn't something to be wasted.

And Darla, apart from the superb tracking skills she shared with Spike, possesed something essential: her link with Connor, which guided her through the darkness in a beeline straight to her child.

They ran out from Hogsmeade and into the countryside; and soon Snape noticed they were approaching Hogwarts. Was is possible Connor was there? If it was so, what was the danger?

But before they reached the castle's gates, Darla made a turn and, instead, they began to run along the school's outer walls. Snape had the wand ready in his hand, whereas Darla and Spike were armed with stakes.

Finally, Darla stopped dead on her tracks, in front of a set of black trees Snape recognized at once. _Oh, no_.

'He's in there.' Her voice was as detached as her expression, but he could see the terror in her eyes. 'And he's not alone.'

Without no further explanation, she led the way into the woods.

* * *

'Look at the little boy. He came to the woods to play and got lost. Now the bad wolf's gonna eat him up...' 

The vampire got elbowed in the ribs. 'Shut up, idiot. You're starting to sound like _her_.'

'Shhh, be quiet, here _she_ comes!'

Connor would have found this exchange strange or remotely funny hadn't it been for the fact he was scared to death. He felt certain he'd never been this afraid before, or at least not since he was a small child in Pylea.

A tight knot had formed in his throat, his insides were squirming, his legs had turned into stone and even breathing was proving to be a hard task.

His mind, though, kept working tiredlessly. A dozen possible plans to escape were formed in his head, and each one of them was discarded as soon as he found the flaws. Soon, he would run out of ideas. Soon, and then it would be nothing left but desperation. Soon, but not yet. _Please, God, not yet_...

The vampires fell uncharacteristically silent. A few minutes ago, they had been harassing Connor: taunting him, showing their teeth, growling, one of the females had even traced his neck with her tongue, while all the time the boy stood as still as he could, barely breathing. Now, though, they all had serious expressions on their faces, and they were keeping a small distance from him – too small to try anything, though.

Two of the vampires separated, leaving a narrow gap, through which another vampire walked into the circle. However, this wasn't like any of the other vampires.

They were all rough and hulking, with their worn out faces and their dirty, shabby robes, and a general look of stupidity present in their vacuous eyes.

This one was different. Dressed in a velvet red dress, the woman (no, not a woman, a_ demon_, like all the others) moved with a grace that made her look like she were floating above the ground instead of stepping on it. Her hair was silky and dark as a starless night, while her pale features couldn't have been more delicate if an artist had sculpted them. And her eyes... Her blue eyes were profound as the sea, and they shone with a light Connor had never seen in any other person...or _demon_.

'Baby Brother.' Her voice was soft and somewhat childish, as if it belonged to a little girl. 'I'm so glad to meet you at last. I looked and looked for you, under the sea and beyond the stars, but you weren't there. You were far, far beyond here.'

She took another step closer and one of her deadly cold fingers caressed his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

'Oh, sweet Baby Brother, we will be so happy together. We will play and sing all day, and it'll be so much better than dolls, even Miss Edith.' A pout formed in her ruby lips. 'I miss Ms. Edith. And I miss Daddy, and Grandma, and my sweet William.' A strange smile lightened her face once more. 'But it doesn't matter, because now I have a baby brother!'

Suddenly, Connor realised what the brightness in her eyes meant: It was a gleam of madness.

As her smile became broader until he could see all her pointed teeth, she took one more step forward and grabbed his arm.

'Now you will come with me, Baby Brother, and we will have so much fun!'

She grabbed his other arm and pulled him closer, as her face tranformed. At last, Connor was able to react. All his stiffness had disappeared. This was the moment to act.

He began to jerk violently, to kick, to struggle, to bite, to spit: In one word, to fight like hell. No Weakening Solution could have stopped him: panic, and something more primal, gave him an unnatural strength.

However, she was much stronger than him, being her delicate movements only a facade. Her grip on his arms was so tight that she cut his circulation, and her nails ripped his sleeves and digged into his skin, as she raised him in the air.

'Look at me.'

Connor struggled even more violently, trying with every fiber of his body to get free from her grip...

'_Look at me.'_

Her voice changed: it grew softer, more tempting, and it lost its childish quality. Completely against his will, Connor was forced to turn to look her in the eye, as though an invisible hand was moving his head.

His eyes locked with hers, and for a brief moment he glimpsed something much more terrible than madness, something deeper. He glimpsed a power so great and ancient that he couldn't grasp it, he felt how everything else faded into nothingness...

And then his mind turned completely blank.

He didn't feel her sharp nail cutting a thin red line on his neck; he didn't feel her lips tracing the red line; he didn't see her cutting her hand and he didn't feel the dead blood staining his lips as she muttered words in a language he'd never heard.

What he did feel, though, was when he fell with a harsh thump to the ground when the vampiress dropped him. Pulled out of his trance, he looked up to see a line of blood on her cheek, which had been produced when a stake had passed next to her and impaled the closest vampire.

Calvary had finally arrived.

* * *

He felt like his hands were on fire every time they touched the scorching floor, and the heat seemed to come through his clothes to burn his skin. 

The smoke was so dense that it was almost solid and, to him, it resembled a very real and physical force trying to push him back. But he didn't let himself to be pushed back. Whatever happened, he'd keep going. It didn't matter if the plastic of his glasses seemed to be melting on his nose; it didn't matter if he could barely breath; it didn't matter if the heat seemed to hit him on the face with incredible strength. He'd keep going. Because there was only one thing that his dizzy mind knew for certain: _He couldn't go back_.

Harry didn't know when he had realised that help wasn't on the way and that it was a matter of time before the fire reached them all. He just knew that one moment he was waiting to be rescued, paralyzed by fear, and the next, he knew he had to escape or they all would die.

The window, as they were on a third floor, was out of question. Besides, the glasses were protected with metal bars, so there was no escape through them. Obviously he couldn't walk through the concrete walls, so there was only one way out left: the door.

Of course, that would involve walking through the fire. Something that no one – not even a eight-year-old – would do willingly in normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances.

The world around Harry seemed to have turned into a blazing orange, the temperature had risen to what felt like an impossible level; and his brain had stopped functioning properly a while ago. His teacher could have probably explained to him that this was a result of inhaling so much smoke, but it wouldn't have mattered much.

All Harry knew was that he'd stopped thinking, and instead he just kept moving, towards his only escape, or perhaps towards a certain death. No one could tell, and least of all Harry.

As the rational side of his brain seemed to have gone on vacation, a primal instinct had seized command of his body, and he crept on his stomach, guided by the will to survive. Everything else faded into nothingness.

However, as he came closer to the flames and both the heat and the smoke increased, it became harder and harder to move. His lungs seemed like they were going to explode, his head was dizzier than ever, his clothes had glued to his skin, and he felt blisters already forming on his hands.

Suddenly, his senses came back to him for a moment and the harsh reality of what he was doing hit him.

_I can't do this. I can't go through the fire._

It was nuts, he was going to fry. The fire covered it all: there was no gap, no small way out. There were only flames and smoke.

Desperation took over him, and he let his head fell on his arms, in spite of the heat. He couldn't do this. He couldn't get out to seek for help. And no one could. They all were trapped.

_If help gets here in time_...

But no, help wouldn't get there in time. It was already too late.

A part of his brain told him he should go backwards immediately with the others, before the flames reached him too. But a feeling of defeat and impotence had paralyzed both his muscles and his mind, and he remained motionless, sensing the flames coming closer, yet aware he could do nothing to save himself.

A thought of Sirius came to his mind. Brave, cheerful, strong Sirius. Surely Sirius would have known what to do. But Sirius wasn't here. Sirius would never be by Harry's side ever again.

A strangled cry escaped from Harry's dry throat. _If only the fire went away... Just a little bit, just for a little time... If I could go through the door..._

But he couldn't. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry so badly. But he couldn't do that either. It seemed like all his tears had dried. He closed his eyes. The sounds seemed to grow quieter, as if they came from far, far away, and everything seemed a little less tangible, a little less real. Without him knowing it, Harry began to slip into unconsciousness.

A faint breeze caressed his eyelids. Harry flinched and panted...and when he breathed, real, pure air filled his lungs.

He took another breath, and another, like a thirsty man drinking water in the dessert. It was the most wonderful sensation he'd ever felt... and the faint breeze, the gentlest touch in the world...

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, so he didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted so badly to think this was real...

Finally, his eyes snapped wide open. And his jaw fell open in shock.

The flames, which had been coming closer and closer, had now stopped spreading. Not only that: if Harry's feverish mind wasn't deceiving him, the flames were _moving aside_.

Harry blinked, but when he opened his eyes the image hadn't disappeared. The fire, which moments before had been blocking the exit completely, was slowly being pushed to one side, as though some invisible force were dragging it.

Before Harry's astonished eyes, a gap had appeared where once the door, now carbonized, had been. Through the gap, he saw something he'd feared he'd never see again: the hallway, and beyond it, the outside world, where there were other colours apart from orange, and air, and sunshine, and wind.

He didn't hesitate. In spite of his tiredness, the fever, the lack of oxygen and the burns, he jumped to his feet so fast he nearly fell, and jumped forward through the doorframe, right into salvation.

As he stepped out the classroom, the sound of someone shouting reached his ears. It took him a moment to realise it was his own voice, screaming for help.

He heard the sound of footsteps rushing, of people shouting, and blurry visions of persons with bright-coloured jackets running past him passed before his eyes, but everything was getting dizzy and confusing right now. The world started to spin around him, and in few seconds he fell to the ground in a whirl of dazzling colours and reverberating sounds.

* * *

Darla and Spike had seen them first. Or perhaps they had sensed them, with those terryfing powers they possesed. Either way, they had realised what was going on before him, and as soon as they did, Darla commanded Snape to stay behind. 

For a moment, he was going to refuse heartily, until he saw the look on Darla's face. Many times Snape's innards squirmed at the thought of all the stuff this woman had done. She had killed so many, done such terrible things. She was a vampire, she was a monster.

However, this was the first time he realised this petite, fragile-looking woman could snap his neck in two without a blink of the eye.

'Vampires will be able to hear your breathing or, if the wind changes its direction, they'll smell you. You can't come. Not yet.'

She needen't to say more. Actually, she wouldn't have needed to say nothing at all: Snape wasn't going to contradict her.

So he remained behind, but he had the wand ready and his eyes never stopped watching what was going on, not a single detail escaping from his penetrating gaze.

Darla and Spike moved forward and split. As he watched their graceful, unnatural moves, Snape realised he could have never gone unnoticed. It didn't matter that many people had said that his walking was cat-like, in comparison to the unhuman way that their feet barely touched the ground and the smooth movements they made, Snape was the loudest and clumsiest person in the world. A vampire would have heard him a mile away.

* * *

Darla and Spike surrounded from a safe distance the circle of vampires, studying it carefully, counting how many of them there were, checking their possible weaknesses and planning different ways of attacking. 

Soon, they noticed that Connor (Darla's heart jumped when she saw him standing on his feet, apparently still in one piece) wasn't alone in the centre of the circle. There was another vampire standing in front of him, its spine bent so its eyes and Connor's were at the same level. None of them could distinguish its features, though: the mass of vampires and Connor blocked its face from sight.

Darla saw one of the vampire's hands – a feminine hand, she noted – reached Connor's face, and Darla suddenly had her nostrils filled with the smell of blood. Her child's blood.

Ok, enough was enough. Throwing caution – and all her strategies – to the winds, she tossed the stake in her hand, which went flying through the air and thrust into the chest of the vampire which was closest to the vampiress. Hell was unleashed.

The fight started, as fierce and bloody as only a fight amongst vampires could be. Spike, she noted, looked elated and ecstactic as his fists made impact with his adversaries' faces and his feet sent them flying, in a way that reminded her of Faith, the Rogue Slayer.

Darla had never been much of a fighter herself. She'd always preferred other people to fight for her. After she'd got her soul, though, this had changed. Not only she'd have to fight that time in Sunnydale to save the world from The First, but after that she'd helped the Slayers-in-training many times, as well as she helping Faith, Spike and Giles whenever they needed it. She still didn't enjoy fighting as much as Spike and Faith did – but she couldn't deny the satisfaction and the thrill that reducing her enemies gave her: the last type of violent thirst that she allowed herself.

But this wasn't about gratuitous violence. This was about something even more primal: protecting her child. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw Snape rushing to Connor's side. The child had a look of confusion on his face, as though he'd just woken up from a bizarre dream, but on the whole he looked just fine. She saw Snape casting a Shield Charm (which of course she didn't know what was called) and caught a glimpse of the wizard setting a vampire on fire with his wand, before she received a steeled punch on her chin.

She swirled, her foot collisioning with the vampire's chest. He fell on his back, with such bad luck that his heart was penetrated by a root, and he disappeared in a explosion of dust. Darla didn't wait to see his sorry end: she had already turned around to face another vampire.

Soon, the three of them had taken care of all the vampires, except for a couple that had run away. Amongst them, Darla glimpsed the dark-haired leader. Something about her – the smell, the shinning dark hair, her mere pressence – had raised her suspicions. Spike, who had felt it too, made an attempt to follow her when she headed in the direction the vampiress had disappeared – but one look at Darla's face made him to hesitate.

'You have to get them out of here unharmed,' she simply said, gesturing towards Connor, who still looked perplexed yet undamaged, and Snape, who'd gotten a nasty bruise on his left arm. Spike opened his mouth to protest – and then closed it. Certain times, you just couldn't argue with Darla, even Spike knew that.

Darla ran through the mass of black trees, tracking down the female vampire's smell, which got more and more familiar with every passing second. How could she have been so stupid? How couldn't she have imagined that she would try something like this...?

She pushed those thoughts away. They wouldn't help her now. Instead, she concentrated in the smell and the sounds surrounding her, discarding those that wouldn't help her in her search.

When she reached a small clearing, she stopped on her tracks. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to one side, and concentrated. Snapping her eyes open, she spun round, stretched out and arm and grabbed the vampiress by the neck, pushing her against the nearest tree. The delicate features and the clear, mad eyes couldn't have been more familiar than if they had been her own.

'Dear Dru,' she hissed. A forced smile curved the brunette's lips.

'Grandmother.'

Darla refrained the impulse to crack her neck right and proper. It wouldn't help her much.

'What are you doing here, my dear girl?' she asked in her most dulcet tones. Drusilla wasn't fooled: her eyes widened in fear and she tried to get free from her grip unsuccesfully. Finally, she gave up and answered:

'I came to play with Baby Brother. You've been bad, Grandmother, very bad. You didn't let me see him.'

Darla tilted her head to one side and eyed her. 'I see. You came to play with him. Then why did I smell blood? _His_ blood?'

Drusilla squirmed at her Grand Sire's venomous glare. She opened her mouth, then closed it. With any other person or demon, she would have gotten away babbling some nonsense. But she couldn't fool Darla like that. She'd never been able to.

In the most sensible way she'd talked in a long time, she said:

'I wanted to see him. And I wanted him to see me. Nobody sees me anymore.' She pouted. 'Everybody's left me alone. Daddy's gone. My Spike walked away. You have let them taint you. Nobody is with me anymore. I gave you life, and you all wasted the gift.'

Darla's mouth went dry when all the connotations sank in.

'So you thought he wouldn't waste your gift? That was what you were trying to do?'

A faint breeze agitated the trees' leaves above their heads. Seconds went by and Drusilla remained silent. Darla tightened her grip on the vampiress' neck.

'Were you?' she urged, no longer veiling the menace underneath dulcet tones.

The brunette's eyes flashed in indignation.

'No! He is white, and we are black. We are black and grey, and blood and death. He is white and colours, sunshine and life. I can't turn him into one of us. It's not allowed.' She shook her head, and shot scared glances to both sides, as if she was waiting for someone else to attack her. Darla ignored this, and increased the pressure. That snapped Drusilla back to reality. 'You can't turn an angel. Angels and birds get wings and sing, above and above, beyond the incandescent sky, and the fish...'

Darla realised that was the last bit of rational information she'd get from Drusilla, who was now babbling nonsense like usual. However, she still had to make herself clear enough.

'Dru, listen to me. Don't you ever come close to him again. And don't dare to tell anybody about where Connor is. Understood?'

Before she could answer, though, a whistle was heard and something passed so close to her head that it ruffled her hair. What the...?

She saw an arrow stuck on the tree, right above Drusilla's head. Darla shot a quick glance over her shoulder, and had enough time to release Drusilla and duck before another arrow was shot in her direction. Drusilla, who had kneeled next to her to avoid the arrow, clapped and exclaimed:

'The little ponies are here to play!'

Darla glared at her, annoyed (how could she have forgotten how irritating the vampire was?), and then she heard it: a sound of hooves was coming closer. She blinked. Hooves? What...?

And then she saw them. First of all, she saw their inferior part. Then she saw their torso and head. Uh-oh...

'How do you dare, treacherous creatures of the dark, to disturb this place's peace?' one of the whatever-they-were roared.

It took Darla a moment to get over that a _horse_ was speaking to her – no, not a horse. _A centaur_, she corrected herself. And who cared what it was, anyway? There were three of them, all of them with bows ready in their hands.

Darla put her hands in the air, and began to rise to her feet slowly. 'Look, we are going out of here now. We won't do you any harm...'

All she got as a response was an arrow aimed to her chest, which she avoided just in time, and a harsh laugh.

'Vampire, do not try to trick us. Your kind is incapable of not doing harm. But we will put an end to it now: you will not go out of this forest. Your unlife will be finished now.'

Darla took a step backwards, her hands still in the air. 'Look, you shouldn't...'

It was so fast she didn't have enough time to react. An arrow flew across the air and stuck into her left arm. She looked at the growing stain of blood on her blouse, shocked, before the pain flooded her arm and spread to the rest of her body. _Okay, enough is enough_.

Without so much as a warning, she jumped and grabbed with both hands a branch, then she launched herself forward and hit with both feet one of the centarus' faces. She could hear bone cracking under her feet as both of them fell to the ground. Darla rolled over and threw a stone to the second centaur, not before he managed to shoot an arrow at her, which didn't hit her by inches. The third one aimed at her, but Drusilla morphed and punched his face.

Darla didn't stay to see the out come of the fight: she fled through the woods, before the centaurs roaring voices could ask for help. She had had enough for one evening.

* * *

Sirius' old car had never ran so fast. By the time he reached the hospital, he was pretty certain that the engine had probably melted down, and he couldn't have cared less. 

He jumped out the car and ran to the hospital, rushing inside. In the hall there was the usual confusion present in every hospital: doctors, nurses, patients, relatives, all of them hurrying to one place or another. Sirius didn't have time to try to find the receptionist. Instead, he grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm and made her face him.

The woman flinched, and then her expression relaxed into a mask of cold competence. She was probably used to hysterical patients and relatives, and she surveyed him with indifference.

'How can I help you, sir?'

Sirius's words came out in a rush, and it was a miracle he could make himself clear.

'Loking for my godson. Eight years old, tiny, jet-black hair, glasses. Name's Harry Potter. He was one of the students of the school that burnt down...'

A look of dawning comprehension appeared on the nurse's face.

'Oh, the kids from the school...Poor devils.' At Sirius' panicked expression, she hastened to add: 'Don't worry, sir. None of the kids has serious injuries. The teacher is still unconscious, but he'll recover.'

Sirius couldn't have cared less about the teacher. 'Where are they?'

The nurse led him to a large, shinningly white room, with a long line of white beds. There was a child in each bed, some of them sleeping, some others talking in hushed whispers with their parents. Most of them had large parts of their faces covered by bandages and gauze, but none of them looked seriously hurt.

He strided through the room, his gaze examining each one of the beds' little occupants, searching for the familiar features of his godson. Finally, he saw him lying on the bed closest to the window. Sirius' heart skipped a beat as he launched forward.

Harry, who had been looking through the window dully, looked at the right side of his bed and his face lightened when he saw his godfather.

'Sirius! So did Mrs. Dartwood call you?'

Sirius nodded. Harry's headmistress had called him at work, and it hadn't taken Sirius a minute to jump from his seat, mumble an excuse to his boss and flee through the door.

The man examined his godson carefully. He had bandages on his hands and a bit of gauze covered his forehead, but on the whole he seemed to be all right. A sigh of relief emptied his lungs. _Thank God_...

He sat on the bed, and gently pulled Harry into an embrace. God, he had been so scared, so terrified of losing him... He hid his face in the child's messy hair so he wouldn't see his eyes watering out from relief. Harry was laughing, also out of relief, and trying to explain what had happened to Sirius' shoulder. He didn't get a word of what he was saying, but it didn't matter: Harry was fine, and he was with him, and everything else was unimportant and it could wait. In that moment, the pressure of Harry's tiny body against his chest and his high-pitched voice reaching his ears were the most important thing in the world.

Later, after a nurse had given Harry his lunch, the boy looked thoughtfully at his godfather.

'Sirius', he finally said, 'if Stuart's mum lets him throw a party... will you let me go?'

The man sighed. There was only one answer possible, and Sirius said it. Letting out a delighted shriek that nearly destroyed Sirius' tympanum, Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius.

As he ruffled his godson's hair tenderly, Sirius realised that sometimes there was no such a thing as a safe place. That, sometimes, all the safety measures taken weren't enough.

And that he would have to learn to live with that.

* * *

After Connor had been calmed down and been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion; after Darla's and Spike's wounds, as well as his own, had been taken care of; after they had discussed all the implications of the mad vampiress' visit, and after he had sent an owl to Dumbledore explaining what had happened, there was only one thing to take care of. But, as he walked towards his study, after Darla and Spike had disappeared through the flames, he knew that it was something he would have to do on his own. 

'You are aware that none of this would have happened if the damned boy had stayed quiet as I had told him, don't you? But of course, what can be expected from a child whose mother...?'

'Shut up.'

Mr. Snape looked up, one of his eyebrows raising.

'What did you say, son? I didn't hear you.'

Snape ignored the hint of sarcasm and kept his voice calm and cold.

'I told you to shut up.'

His father's eyes flashed with anger as he rose – not without certain difficulty – from the armchair.

'How dare you, stupid boy, to tell me what to do? I am your father, you ungrateful...'

Snape remained calm. 'I dare to because I am no longer a boy, depite what you believe. I'll make myself clear: I don't care why you did leave Connor alone today. I don't care what sort of business you've came to take care of in Britain, and I don't care which one of your old associates you were meeting this evening in the Forbidden Forest. You put Connor in danger. Now get out of my house.'

His father's mouth fell open, letting him see the few missing teeth, in a way that was almost comical. Almost.

'So you're kicking me out,' his father hissed, in his most dangerous tone. 'You are kicking out your own father, who also happens to be the last member of your family...'

It became harder for Snape to remain composed, but he managed to control himself by clenching his hands into fists inside his pockets.

'Funny you claim to be my father now, when some years ago you disowned me. As for being the last member of my family...Well, that isn't true anymore, is it?'

The old man fumed and his eyes narrowed.

'Oh, yes, it's true. You have another family now.' A harsh laugh escaped from his dry lips. 'Do you think I'm that naïve? That I wouldn't realise that all you had told me about the brat was a lie? Did you believe me to be that stupid?'

Snape's heart seemed to have stopped beating in his chest, as cold sweat covered his hands. If his father had found out the truth about Connor, then...

'Did you honestly think that I wouldn't see what the Muggle whore was doing here? Well, at least you had the decency not to give the bastard our name and cover the family tree in shame. No wonder you hid it from me: _a Mudblood bastard brat, nevertheless!_ Could you have fallen any lower?'

Snape blinked. What the hell was his father talking about? Then all the pieces fell into place: his father believed that he and Darla were lovers, and that Connor was their child.

The idea was so ridiculous that he almost burst into hysterical laughter, but he refrained himself in time. It was better to let his father believe any nonsense his twisted imagination could come up with, rather to let him know the truth.

'It's none of your business. Now, get out of this house, and out of our lives.'

Holding his head high, his father strided to the door and stopped before turning the knob and threw him one last glare.

'You will regret this, Severus. Mark my words.'

As his father's footsteps echoed away, Snape's gaze fell on a framed photograph on his desk. In it, a beaming Connor was holding a brand-new broomstick, his eyes shinning with glee.

'No, father. I don't think I will.'

* * *

**Jesse: **Thanks for your good wishes and, in case you didn't notice with this chapter, I hate Mr. Snape too. With a bit of luck, we won't see him in a long time...hopefully. I don't know, and I'm supposed to be the author. Like always, I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter, and now tell me if you've liked this new Spike cameo.

**Luna Moonlight Fawn**: Thanks for the good wishes, last chapter's review and the reviews you sent to Percy Weasley's the Series: in sum, for lighting up my day. As you can see, that series is a little abandoned by now, as I'm focusing in 2SP, but I hope that soon I'll be able to update it. And about Sirius' heir or heiresss...nope, I haven't thought about it, and it probably won't happen in this fic.Have a nice summer.


	19. Chapter 18

Sorry for the delay, between exams and my sickness, I wasn't in the mood to get anywhere near the PC. I'm happy to say that the exams are finished, I'm healthy again, and here I am to deliver you this new chapter, beta read by Joycelyn Solo and obviously written by me. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: New Places To See**

When Connor entered Malfoy Manor that summer afternoon, there was an air about him that suggested he owned the place or something. Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, who were playing Exploding Snap in the former's bedroom, exchanged curious glances. Usually, Draco was the one who entered other people's houses strutting as if he owned them.

'So, kids,' Connor said, as he sat down on Draco's bed, 'what are you up to?'

Once again, the boys exchanged questioning looks. There was something odd about Connor's attitude that day. _Kids?_ Honestly!

'What happened to you today?' Draco snapped. 'Did you fall from the bed on your head?'

Connor, instead of getting angry at Draco's words, grinned. Theodore frowned, and Draco looked shocked. What was going on?

'Well, now you mention it, yes, something happened to me today. I got some mail, see.'

Draco gave him an incredulous look, as a set of cards exploded in his right hand. He didn't seem to notice: he had thrown his head backwards and let out a roar of laughter.

'Y-you g-got some mail? _That's_ so ex-exciting?'

To their surprise, Connor's smile didn't fade away, and he remained cool and collected. He waited until Draco had stopped laughing, then he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. Intrigued, Theodore took it from Connor's hand. It only took him a few seconds to read the words written on top: _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_.

The always serious Theo Nott let out a shriek of excitement.

'You got your Hogwarts letter! You got your Hogwarts letter!'

Draco looked up, and tried to snatch the letter from his fingers. Theo, though, kept the letter away from his hands and finished reading it.

'Have you already got all the supplies?' he asked Connor eagerly. The older boy nodded, unable to hide his own excitement.

'Severus and I went to Diagon Alley this very morning, as soon as I'd got the letter.'

To an outsider, it would have been hard to understand what the big deal was. After all, it was quite obvious that Connor was bound to get his Hogwarts letter soon: he was no Muggle, and he was a full year older than the other two boys.

However, getting a Hogwarts letter was always a big deal for wizarding children. It was what they were prepared for during their whole childhoods; and it was the first sign of indepence and maturity for them. The moment a child got his or her Hogwarts letter was the moment they stopped being seen as mere children, and the moment they could enter the mysterious world of spells and potions. It was the moment they began to turn into real wizards.

Draco finally managed to snatch the letter from Theo's hands and hurried to read it. A frown formed on his face.

'All the books here seem to be pretty boring,' he commentted. Connor and Theo exchanged a knowing look. Of course Draco Malfoy couldn't accept that somebody other than him was in the spotlight. 'Father says that Dumbledore doesn't let Professors teach the students any real magic, only that silly Self-Protection Defence Against Dark Arts. He doesn't want me to go to Hogwarts. I might go to Durmstrang instead: Father knows one of its teachers, and they teach real Dark Arts there.'

Theo sneered. 'My father doesn't think much of Durmstrang. He says it's not half the school Hogwarts is.' Before Draco could come out with a nasty retort, he turned to face Connor. 'So, you're going to Slytherin, aren't you?'

Connor nodded. 'Yep. Mr. Banerji's test results were pretty clear: 65 per cent of probability of going to Slytherin.'

Every June, Mr. Banerji set an exam for his older students, so they could see what chances they had to go to any of the different School Houses. It worked more or less the same way that Muggle vocational tests did. The results weren't definitive, certainly, but they were right in most cases. Connor had been very glad when his test results had came. He'd always known he'd go to Slytherin. The only shadow had been that Severus hadn't looked happier about it for some reason Connor did not understand.

'Well, then you'll have it easy there.'

Connor frowned at Draco, carefully taking the letter from his hands and pocketing it. 'What do you mean?'

Draco shrugged, as if it were something obvious. 'Well, Severus is the Head of Slytherin. He'll make things easier for you.'

Connor reflected on this, and then shook his head. 'Nah. Severus would never show me any favouritism.'

'He always favours Slytherins,' Draco pointed out.

'Yeah, sure, but... it's different. Fellow Slytherins wouldn't be too happy with me if I were treated differently, would they?'

Draco shrugged. 'So? Screw them.' He smirked. 'I know that, whether I go to Hogwarts or Durmstrang, there'll be teachers that will have special consideration with me. And if the other students don't like it... that's their problem.'

Connor shifted on the bed and blinked, incredulous. Theo kept his face unreadable.

'So,' Connor said slowly, as if he was trying to grasp some difficult concept, 'you say that you don't mind if the teachers show you favouritism only because of who your father is?'

Draco looked bewildered. 'Of course not! Why would I?'

Theo was usually a quiet boy, who preferred not to intervene in Connor's and Draco's contends... but this time he decided it was better to put an end to the discussion before things got out of hand.

'Another game of cards?'

Both boys agreed at once, as eager as he was to prevent a future argument. However, Theo noticed that Connor kept fuming at Draco during the whole game, although he tried to keep it quiet. Draco, who wasn't a perceptive kind of person, didn't notice a thing.

Later on, at his father's call, Draco had to exit the room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Theo saw Connor sliding down from the bed and sitting next to him, a pensive look on his face. Imagining what all this was about, Theo pretended to be busy shuffling the cards, but he cast a glance at Connor by the corner of his eye.

'So, what's up?' he asked, when his impatience got the better of him. Connor winced, and then gave a half-hearted shrug.

'Nothing. Just... Do you think what Draco said is true? That I'd be treated differently at Hogwarts?'

Theo stopped shuffling the cards and pondered. From what he'd seen of the man, it didn't seem that Severus Snape was going to give Connor special treatment at Hogwarts. At the young age of ten years old, Theodore Nott had noticed there were two kinds of parents: the ones who spoiled their children rotten, until they were turned into insufferable brats; and the ones who preferred to be unbeareably strict. Lucius Malfoy, for instance, clearly belonged to the first group, fulfilling Draco's wildest wishes. His own father, though, and Mr. Snape seemed to belong to the second group, much to Theo's and Connor's own dismay. Theo guessed it was better not to be spoiled... but that conviction wavered when Draco Malfoy came showing off with a new racing broom, or with a new magical toy, or... Well, when he had the best of everything while they didn't.

'Nope, I don't think he'll treat you differently. Well, at least not differently to the way he treats the other Slytherins, I guess. He always favours that House, doesn't he?' Connor nodded, absent-mindedly. Theo couldn't see why Connor was bothered by this. If he was given special treatment, that was a great advantage. And Theo wasn't silly enough to be disgusted at an easy advantage. 'Maybe the other teachers do treat you differently, but what's the problem with that? It's a good thing, isn't it?'

Connor shrugged again, lost in thought. 'Yeah, sure. It's great.'

Connor Angel was one of his closest friends – possibly _the_ closest, as he didn't have many friends – but, sometimes, to Theodore he was just an inscrutable puzzle.

* * *

A small, skinny boy with messy black hair and round-rimmed glasses, sat at a ramshackle porch. He was almost ten years old, but he looked much younger – until you looked into his big, green eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who'd seen much more than an average ten-year-old was supposed to see.

Now, those eyes were looking at everything pensively. The emerald gaze followed the strong-built men as they pulled out big and small boxes made of wood or cardboard and strode towards the porch, sometimes mumbling a ''Lo, kid', as they walked past him. Then the gaze swept over the dull surroundings. In this neighbourhood, all the houses were similar, with stained walls and roofs with missing tiles. Some of the houses had toys hapharzadly lying in the front yards, others had carefully kept flowers, and one of them had a rusty old car which seemed to have been there since before he was born. Not a posh zone, sure, but that wasn't what bothered him.

What truly bothered Harry – so that was the green-eyed boy's name – was that they had had to move to a different town yet _again_. He'd already lost track of all the times he and his godfather had moved in the last few years. The last couple of times, he hadn't had enough time to settle down before they already had to pack their stuff again.

Harry didn't fully get it. Sirius always said it was because of his job – but many times he had been doing really well at it when he'd decided to move. And sometimes, the new job he got wasn't half as good as the last one. The same could be said about the new house.

And it wasn't like Sirius had any trouble with their neighbours or his coworkers, as once the mother of one of Harry's friends had implied. Actually, Sirius got along very well with everyone. It was incredibly easy for him to make new friends.

Harry feared he was the opposite. He wasn't exactly a shy child – his godfather said he'd never seen a braver boy – but he wasn't very sociable either. And everytime they moved it got harder and harder to make new friends. He was usually left out of groups, firstly because he was the new kid in town. Secondly, because weird stuff was always happening to Harry, and that freaked his classmates out. And by weird things, he meant truly weird things – like turning one teacher's hair blue or making a glass explode without touching it.

And then, he was also left out because his family wasn't like the other children's. Actually, his whole family consisted of his godfather, as his parents had died when he'd been a baby. Well, the family that mattered. He had some relatives on his mother's side, but the boy shivered everytime he remembered them.

Another reason some children used to make fun of him was because Sirius was so different from all the other parents. He wore his hair in a long ponytail and dressed in a way that made him look much younger than he truly was. He also acted in a juvenile way. And he had trouble doing the most simple things, like changing a lightbulb or fixing a bike. Sirius didn't even know how to ride a bike – Harry had been taught by the father of a friend. Programming the TV already gave him enough trouble, and computers were far beyond his understanding. Sometimes, it seemed as if Sirius had been born on a different planet.

But Harry knew he wouldn't have changed Sirius for anybody else in the world. He was the coolest person he'd ever met, and the first one who'd shown affection towards him. Sirius always came up with the most original ideas, the funniest jokes, and he always had time for Harry, unlike many other parents he knew. He could make him laugh until he felt his ribs were going to crack, and he was always there to comfort Harry when he felt down.

Harry, who had known from own experience what it meant to be unhappy, knew he wouldn't change the way his life was one little bit.

However, he wished he could understand...

* * *

New town. Another one. Sirius rubbed his temple. Merlin, he was so tired of this. Packing their stuff, unpacking, finding a new job, a new house, meeting new people... only to pack again and start the damned cycle over.

He had never been afraid of changes. In fact, he'd always adored them. He'd always craved for a changing existence, to be always in motion, and his worst nightmare would have been an ordinary, rutinary life.

But now he was taking care of Harry, things were different. He'd noticed how Harry made fewer and fewer friends each time they moved, and it was impossible for him to keep the old ones. Sirius had never wanted James' son to turn into a lonely boy; he'd never wanted him to grow up without friends, like Sirius had. He had never wanted Harry to feel he didn't belong anywhere, he had never wanted Harry to experience what he had.

_Things will be different when he goes to Hogwarts, though. There he'll meet other children like him... and he'll be safe._

Or at least Dumbledore would consider him safe. One would have thought that after some years had passed, Dumbledore would be less worried about Harry's safety – but his worry, in fact, did nothing but increase. Nowadays, every rumour, every small suspicion was enough reason to be extra cautious. That was why they'd moved so often lately.

It wasn't like Sirius didn't share Dumbledore's worry. He dreaded what could happen to Harry if Voldemort ever regained his strength or, more probably, if he ever had the misfortune to cross his path with a resentful Death Eater.

Sometimes, when he felt down, Sirius wondered whether it wouldn't have been much easier for Harry to have stayed with the Dursleys. They had never been caring, but at least there they had been certain Harry was safe from any Dark wizards...

Most of the time, though, he didn't regret his decision of keeping Harry. The boy would never have been happy there, not with those monsters. And if someone ever wanted to harm Harry... then they'd have to walk over Sirius' dead body, because as long as he was alive and breathing he'd never let it happen.

* * *

To Connor, summer seemed to go by in a blur. There were so many things to do before he went to Hogwarts! He had to finish getting all the stuff he needed for Hogwarts, he had to read all his books, as some teachers – Severus among them – would ask questions about them, he had to say goodbye to the friends he wouldn't be seeing until Christmas holidays, like Theo; and he had to pack his trunk. And in the meantime, of course, he ran to his other friends' houses and they talked endlessly about Hogwarts and what was awaiting them there.

It was no surprise, then, that time seemed to slip from his fingers, and before he realised it, the night before he had to go to Hogwarts came. He was at his mother's place, as it was closer to King's Cross (besides, Severus was already at school by now) but she wouldn't take him to the train station. Instead, the Frobishers would pick him up. Connor thought it was a little silly, not to say unpractical, that they had to take the Hogwarts Express when they lived so close from Hogsmeade Station. However, it was an old rule that every student had to take the train at London, no matter where they lived, and so Connor had been sent to his mother's home instead. He didn't mind, though. It was, after all, the last time he'd see his mum until the holidays.

She'd gotten all his favourite food, including the incredible amount of _Oreos_ and _Mars Bars_ he could eat – she hadn't cooked herself, of course, as she was dangerous near the kitchen – and rented some of his favourite movies. 'You can have a late night. You'll probably have a lot of time to sleep during the journey,' she'd said. Connor had been surprised at this, as both his mother and Severus usually were stricter on that aspect. Some of his surprise must have shown on his face, because Spike, the other guest that night, smirked and whispered in his ear:

'She's kinda oversensitive tonight, so take your chance.'

Connor noticed his mother wasn't quite herself that night. First, she had seemed unnaturally excited: she'd insisted on taking pictures of Connor in his school uniform (of course that, as she said, she'd probably have to tell people it was a Haloween costume), which he hadn't liked that much, and then she'd spent the first half of the night chatting endlessly. However, as time went by, she became more and more withdrawn, and once Connor caught her with her eyes watering. This was very strange and almost worrying, so he decided to check his suspicions with Spike as they played with the Nintendo.

'Is she sad because of Lindsey,' he asked tentatively. Spike seemed surprised, and got distracted long enough so his tiny Mario Bros got wiped off the screen.

Lindsey and his mum had broken up a short while ago, after dating for two years. Connor hadn't been pleased to hear this, as he'd always been quite fond of Lindsey – who, much to his disappointment, had returned to the States – and he'd been especially annoyed because nobody bothered to explain to him what had happened. His mum didn't talk about the matter, and when he'd asked Spike about it, he'd shrugged. 'Sometimes, things just don't work out, kiddo,' he'd replied darkly. Connor remembered a chat between his mum and Faith, one of her friends, about Spike's break up with some girl called Buffy, and he dared ask no more.

This time, Spike shrugged again, but his expression wasn't dark.

'Nah. Well, yeah, maybe a little bit, but I don't reckon that's why she's like this tonight. I think she'll just miss you.' And then, under his breath, he added: 'We all will.'

* * *

Connor felt truly sorry for all those children that had to take the Hogwarts Express without knowing one single future classmate. He considered himself very fortunate, as he already knew a bunch of children with whom he would spend the long journey to Hogwarts.

Eddie Carmichael, Vicky Frobisher, Claribel Puddifoot and Geoffrey Hooper were in his same compartment, chatting excitedly and playing Exploding Snap. Soon they were joined by some other future first-years who were in his or her own: a curly haired girl called Marietta Edgecombe, and a couple of boys, Caleb Wiggum and Janus Rutherford. They were really tight, but they didn't bother as they chatted excitedly about their pasts and uncertain futures at Hogwarts. Finally, the subject of the Sorting was brought up.

'Which House do you think you'll be sent?' Eddie inquired. The children exchanged curious glances.

'Gryffindor,' Janus replied without hesitation. 'By far the best House.'

'I'll probably go to Gryffindor too', Vicky piped up. 'Almost my whole family has gone there.'

Geoffrey tilted his head to one side, thoughtful. 'Gryffindor sounds like a good choice.'

'Nah' Eddie said, shaking his head. 'I think Ravenclaw's better.'

Marietta nodded eagerly. 'Way better.' Vicky frowned and seemed about to say something harsh, so Eddie hurried to ask Claribel which House she go would go to. The girl looked doubtful.

'I don't know,' she whispered, shrugging. Connor looked at her, surprised: he knew for sure, because Vicky had told him, that in Mr. Banerji's test she had came out Hufflepuff as first option. Why didn't she say so, then? Connor didn't think she had reason to be ashamed. In spite of what Severus used to say, Connor didn't think it was such a bad House. All Houses were respectable.

'Slytherin,' Caleb stated when Eddie asked, and Connor nodded.

'Absolutely.' Both boys shared a knowing glance and grinned. Their companions, though, looked dubious.

'Are you sure, Connor?' Vicky asked tentatively. 'Wouldn't you like going to Gryffindor, with us?'

Connor frowned, surprised. 'But Vicky, you saw my test. It was pretty definitive, don't you think?'

Vicky bit her lower lip. Suddenly, the other children looked uncomfortable. Connor stared at them. What was the matter?

Janus, who'd been staring at Connor for a while with a frown on his face, said sharply:

'I've heard about you.' At Connor's surprised look, he explained further: 'A friend of my cousin has mentioned you. You're Snape's foster son or something, right?'

'Yeah,' Connor replied quietly, still not getting what Janus meant. The boy now had an irritating expression on his face, one that seemed to say 'I-Know-Something-That-You-Don't'. Connor didn't like it at all.

'Well, that explains why you want to go to Slytherin,' Janus said, in a matter-of-fact tone that couldn't hide a note of disdain. 'Certainly, things will be much easier for you if your dad is the Head of your House.'

Connor's temper rose as the full meaning of his words hit him, and the atmosphere around them thickened.

'Are you saying,' he hissed, 'that I want to go there only because I expect him to show me favouritism?'

Vicky and Eddie exchanged nervous glances, as they were both familiar with Connor's rare but fiery outbursts of anger. He intervened.

'Nobody's saying that, Connor! We know you wouldn't do that,' he hurried to say, as Vicky shot a glare at Janus. He merely rolled his eyes and replied sarcastically:

'Of course not.'

Fortunately, a plump witch with a food trolley arrived and the need to eat replaced any other feeling. However, Connor and Janus kept throwing each other sharp glares, and Connor had the distinct feeling he wouldn't get along at all with the boy.

When Connor accompanied Vicky to ask the driver how long it'd take to get there, he dared to share with her some of the troubling thoughts that had left his mind in turmoil since the discussion that had almost ended in argument with Rutherford. Vicky pondered on his worries for a moment, then shook her head.

'No one that knows you will think you seek favouritism, Connor. You aren't like that. Although...'

'Although what, Vicky?' he asked impatiently. She shrugged.

'I don't know, Connor. I still think you could do better than Slytherin.'

He opened his mouth to protest, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Hey, Connor, I've been looking for you. Oh, hi, Vicky.' They turned around and saw Miles, smiling broadly. 'C'mon, Connor. There're some people I want you to meet.'

Before Connor could reply, Vicky waved him off. 'See you later,' she said, and she disappeared.

Connor followed Miles to his compartment, where he was introduced to some of his friends... all Slytherins. He was still too troubled by Vicky's words to pay real attention to any of them, but he noted that they were all trying very hard to be polite, which seemed strange, as older students tended to ignore first-years. When Miles escorted him back to his compartment, he found out the reason:

'You're lucky, Connor. No one in Slytherin will dare to treat you badly.'

He frowned. 'What do you...?'

But he knew what he meant. By now, it was getting obvious that being the Head of Slytherin's surrogate son would change the way his peers treated him. No Slytherin would be foolish enough to seek trouble with Snape's child. Connor felt suddenly disgusted, as he realised the only reason Miles' friends – and, perhaps, even Miles himself – were so polite to him was because they wanted to be on good terms with their Head's son. Horrified, he pictured his future at Hogwarts: he'd never be one hundred percent sure who wanted to be his friend or who wanted to get favoured by hanging out with him...

As those somber thoughts insisted on lingering in his mind, Connor was in a foul mood for the rest of the journey and he barely spoke to anyone.

Once at the train station, the familiar figure of Hagrid greeted them. Some of the first-years including, to Connor's secret delight, Janus Rutherford, looked apprehensive at the huge man. He, on the other hand, walked straight to Hagrid to say hi, and Vicky, always the reckless one, followed his lead.

Connor got into one boat with Vicky, Eddie and Marietta; and tried to ignore Janus as he got on the following boat, right next to them. It wasn't hard to do, as he had a lot of fun laughing mentally at his friends' gasps at the sight of the huge Castle. He was so used to Hogwarts that he already considered it a second home, but to the newcomers the sight had to be impressive.

They were received by Professor McGonagall, whom Connor didn't dare to salute, and led to an antechamber. However, Connor's resolution to listen intently to the teacher's words was thwarted when a faint but yet audible whisper reached his ears:

'That's him, Snape's little spoiled brat...'

Feeling his face reddening, Connor threw a glance out of the corner of his eye, and saw Janus – who else – talking to another boy and pointing at him. Connor did his best to ignore it, but he felt a knot forming in his stomach as his nails dug into his palms. That idiot... Couldn't he give it a rest, the stupid, moronic _whelp_?

He was still fuming when the gates to the Great Hall opened, but when he was faced with a thousand students and teachers staring at them he temporary forgot his anger. He suddenly felt very small.

He saw Severus at the staff table, but he didn't show signs of noticing him, and Connor averted his eyes. Instead, his attention focused on the famous Sorting Hat, which began its curious song. Once it was over, Professor McGonagall unfolded a piece of parchment, and he was startled when his own name was called:

'Connor Angel!'

As he didn't move, Eddie pushed him softly, and Connor could hear sniggering. He didn't have to turn around to know who it had been. Feeling the rage burning inside him again, he strode to the stool with his chin raised, showing no sign of fear or nervousness. He was far too mad for that.

He sat down as the Hat covered his eyes, and the sounds and voices around him seemed to fade away as another voice spoke right into his head:

'So, where are we sending you?'

In years to come, Connor would wonder what had crossed his mind in that moment. After all, he'd never been extremely impulsive – well, except on certain occassions. But he certainly wasn't the kind of person that would take a life-changing decision lightly. However, the truth was that, in spite of all the possible explanations and wonderings, Connor's mind was completely blank when he stated vehemently:

'_Anywhere but Slytherin._'

The Sorting Hat seemed surprised, but that was no wonder: after all, he was supposed to be _perfect_ for Slytherin.

'Why not?'

Connor tried to think about it, but memories kept flooding his brain. The voices of Draco, Theo, Janus, Miles and Vicky echoed in his mind.

'_I know that, whether I go to Hogwarts or Durmstrang, there'll be teachers that will have special consideration with me. And if the other students don't like it.. .that's their problem...' 'Maybe the other teachers do treat you differently, but what's the problem with that? It's a good thing, isn't it?' 'Certainly, things will be much easier for you if your dad is the Head of your House...'_ '_No one in Slytherin will dare to treat you badly...' 'I still think you could do better than Slytherin...'_

'Because, I don't want everyone to think that I'm treated differently. I don't _want _to be treated differently. I don't want people being friendly with me just because Severus is my foster dad. And if I get something... If I get something, I want it to be because I earned it, not because of who I am. I... I want to be like everybody else'.

The Hat was silent for a moment.

'I see. It was my mistake, then. You've clearly showed your true colours now.'

Before he could ask what on earth was that supposed to mean, he heard the Hat's scream that reverberated through the Hall:

'GRYFFINDOR!'

He didn't know how he managed to stand up and walk to the Gryffindor table, where the students were cheerfully clapping and shouting. He was in shock.

He sank in a chair, as many of the other Gryffindors greeted him and patted his back, delighted that the first one to be sorted turned out to be one of their own.

He looked up to the High Table, and saw Severus unreadable expression. Then he turned and saw Eddie's surprised look, Janus' stunned face and Vicky's broad smile...

What the _heck_ had he done now?

* * *

**Luna Moonlight Fawn:** Nice to hear you've liked last chapter, and that you found it a little scary. It was time to insert some action in the boys' lives, just to make them ready for what's ahead. '2SP' is the short version for 'Two Single Parents' and, basically, the reason I'm not updating poor Percy's series. Bye, and have a nice summer you too.

**Jesse:** Liked the Drusilla cameo? I thought it was time for her to make an appearance. She is, after all, part of the family... I had loads of fun writing Overprotective! Sirius, and I'm glad you've liked the part of the fire, I wasn't sure it would sound believable. And it's nice to be back!

**Kal: **Wow, many thanks for all what you said! Reviews like yours always encourage me to keep on writing. It's great that you've liked the fic enough to read it at work even though Connor's wasn't one of your favourite characters. It made me really, really happy to read that.

I guess that the reason the boys don't meet early in the story is because I wanted to keep Harry's childhood as magic-free as possible, just like in the books. Besides, I've always thought about the two stories mirroring each other, both the boys and their 'parents'. However, Harry's approaching his eleventh birthday, and the secret won't be kept for long... And who knows what could happen next?

_Next, in '2 Single Parents': _Chapter Nineteen: A Hard Start. Both Harry and Connor face the prospect of starting a new school, and things won't be easy for neither of them...


	20. Chapter 19

**Beta Read: Joycelyn Solo

* * *

**

**Chapter Nineteen: A Hard Start**

Looking back, Connor would not know how he had managed to cope with his first days at Hogwarts. All the first month was a difficult time of adjustment – but the first two weeks were simply a nightmare.

The first night at Hogwarts should have given him a clue of the hell he was going to be put through. Almost from the very beginning things proved to be difficult.

At first, though, everything seemed to be going just fine. Connor hadn't quite recovered from the shock of sitting with the Gryffindors, of course, and he didn't dare to look at the Slytherin table, where he knew Miles and Caleb would be staring at him in astonishment, and least of all did he dare to glance at the staff table. He didn't feel ready to face Severus' disappointment, not yet.

He got distracted by his fellow classmates, who were introducing themselves in turns. There was an unusual number of new Gryffindors that year: seven boys and five girls. Connor was also a little surprised by the lack of Muggle-borns in his class: there was only a dreamy-looking boy called Matthew Brennan, and there was a half-blood girl called Enya Pelzer, but that was it. The rest came from more or less pure-blooded families. Not that Connor had any trouble with it, as he was far more used to this kind of family, but he'd thought that at Hogwarts he'd find more people like him. He shrugged. It wasn't such a big deal.

Vicky was sitting opposite him, chattering and giggling excitedly with a couple of girls, while a timid-looking girl seemed to be barely tolerating the ramble the last one of the girls was giving her. Janus Rutherford, on the other hand, had sat as far from Connor as possible. He wouldn't have minded at all if it hadn't been for the way Janus kept whispering to the two boys closer to him and throwing him glances, while one of the children was introducing himself. He wasn't the only one annoyed by this, though.

'Wish he'd stopped ranting under his breath while other people talk,' someone hissed next to him. Connor turned and saw a plump boy with a frown on his face.

'Well, I met him on the train and I wouldn't say he cares much for other people's point of view.'

The boy next to him smiled wryly and held out his hand.

'I'm Benny Dunstar.'

'I'm Connor... Angel.' If Benny thought there was anything weird with his surname, he had the delicacy not to say anything as Connor shook his hand. He felt relieved: during his whole school career so far, most of his classmates had found his uncommon surname incredibly funny and had therefore teased him unmercifully. He wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

They began chatting excitedly, and soon Connor found out they both had a soft spot for _Martin Miggs_ comics, that Benny supported the Ballycastle Bats, that his family came from Belfast, that he was an only son, etc., and Connor told him a bit about himself as well, although it was a little hard as Benny liked talking about himself a lot.

After a while, though, the conversation of the other first-years caught their attention: they had begun to talk about the upcoming classes, and exchanging opinions on what they thought the teachers would be like. With a feeling of foreboding, Connor saw Janus sneering as he said:

'From us, the only one who has the inside scoop is Connor _Angel,_' Connor gritted his teeth at the emphasis on his surname, 'over there.' Everyone turned to look at him, puzzled. Janus, seeing he'd caught everyone's attention, added:

'Oh, yeah, didn't you know? He's got Snape, the Potions teacher, as a surrogate dad. I bet all the teachers know you by now, huh?'

Matthew Brennan looked up and said innocently 'Well, that must be great for you, isn't it?'

Connor glared at him. 'I'd hardly say so. When they take points, my name'll be the first that'll come to their minds, as it's the only one they know'.

There were some sympathetic chuckles at this, but Janus would not give up that easily.

'Well, it's just odd that you're here, you know. Snape's Head of Slytherin, and Slytherin's got a reputation...'

'So what?' snapped Vicky. Her brow was furrowed and she was glaring at Janus. 'Connor's in Gryffindor.'

'Yeah, well, but...'

'But what, Janus?'

The boy flinched at Connor's low, deadly tone, but tried his best to look cool... failing miserably. Connor, on the other hand, had his hands clenched in fists under the table, and his nails dug in the palm of his hands. He realised all the others were giving him dubious looks, including Benny. Great. Janus had already started turning them against him.

'You know, I'm looking forward to starting flying lessons.' Everyone started and turned to face Geoffrey Hooper. 'Although I've heard the school brooms are a nightmare.' He frowned. 'They vibrate if you go too high, and they always fly to the left.'

The tension was eased at once, although Connor and Janus kept shooting each other murderous looks. However, the rest of their classmates seemed to have forgotten about them.

'Yeah, my cousin Mehitabel says that once a broom dropped her...'

Connor was glad when the feast came to an end. Many of his classmates kept giving him wary looks, and it was starting to freak him out. Okay, so Slytherin didn't have a great reputation, even Connor knew that, and it was true that Severus always favoured his own House, but that wasn't Connor's fault! Why were they all looking at him as though he were some kind of freak, then?

Once they reached the dormitory, it became obvious that their classmates' prejudice wasn't a product of his imagination: it was clear enough that everyone was trying to get the bed that was the furthest from his. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Matthew took at once the bed at his left, and after a moment's hesitation, Benny took the one at his right. As for Geoffrey, it was impossible to tell whether he was trying to avoid him or not, as he was the last to reach the dorm and was forced to take the bed that was the closest to the door, which no one had wanted.

As he got into the four-posted bed, Connor doubted he'd be able to sleep well. This place was too different from the simplicity he was used to, both at his home and at his mum's place. He felt a pang of homesickness. It would be a long time before he saw his mum or Spike again. And Severus... Severus was probably mad at him, because he'd gone to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin...

Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep.

The following morning was even worse, and to Connor's dismay the disgusting stuff started way too early.

He was the first of his class to get to the Great Hall, as he'd gotten up earlier and he knew by heart the way to the dining room. Before he could get inside, though, he felt a tight grip on his arm.

He turned around, reddening, but it was just Miles. Connor relaxed, although Miles didn't look particularly cheerful. Actually, he looked quite annoyed, and Connor suspected he knew the reason.

'What the hell have you done?'

Connor released his arm. 'Look, if you're mad 'cause the Hat sorted me into Gryffindor...'

'You mean, because you've just ruined the rest of your life here?' Miles snapped. Connor looked at him, bewildered. Wasn't that a little melodramatic? 'Things could have been so easy for you but no, you had to complicate everything!'

Connor was starting to get as annoyed as Miles. 'Perhaps I didn't want things to be _easy_, but to be placed where I belong.'

'So you belong with that bunch of pig-headed blokes that believe themselves to be better than everybody else? That believe themselves to be the bloody school champions, always bragging about their 'bravery' and their nobility?' Miles snorted, showing what he thought about those fallacious concepts. 'Don't fool yourself, Connor. They'll make your life a living hell. They are bound to pick on you. They think they're so great and so much better than us Slytherins, but they're just a bunch of hypocrites.'

In spite of himself, Connor was impressed. He would have never guessed Miles possessed such a rich vocabulary. He wasn't exactly the intellectual type.

'And don't count on me, or on any other Slytherin. We can't fraternize with the enemy.'

Connor's eyes were as round as saucers. The enemy? What on earth did Miles mean by that?

'Are you mad? It's just a school competition!'

Miles shook his head, sneering. 'It's much, much more than that. You'll see it yourself. There are two sides, and you've just picked up the wrong one.'

And before Connor could open his mouth, he'd strode into the Hall.

Fuming, Connor followed him and sank into a chair at the Gryffindor table. As he wasn't in the mood to wait for his dormmates, he started eating. He grabbed a steaming cup of tea and took it to his lips... and in that moment, the tea vanished, and he felt a stingy pain on his nose as the cup seemed to have _bitten_ him. He yelped and jumped from his seat, nearly dropping all the contents of his plate on his lap. There was a moment of frantic desperation as he tried unsuccessfully to get the damned cup from his nose. At last, the cup released his nose and fell to the ground with a clatter.

Blushing, Connor's gaze scanned the almost empty table... and he noticed at once the trio howling in laughter just a few seats away from him. Gritting his teeth, Connor kneeled and picked up the Nose-Bitter Teacup. When he rose to his feet there was a calm expression on his face, and he kept it in place as he headed towards the laughing boys.

They were barely older than Connor – probably second-years. Two of them were exactly alike, with the same red hair and freckle-covered faces – twins. The other one was a black boy with dreadlocks.

Forcing a smile, Connor handed the cup to the closest red-haired boy, who tried to suppress his laughter.

'Zonko's, right?'

The boy nodded, hiccuping. 'Yeah... thanks. Those aren't cheap.' He took the cup gently and pocketed it. Then, a little more seriously – which couldn't be easy to manage, as his twin and friend were still chuckling behind him – he added: 'It was nothing personal. Our brother Charlie gave it to us yesterday, and we wanted to try it on someone.'

'It's all right,' Connor said flatly. He was already turning to get back to his seat, when the black boy, who'd been staring at him intently, called:

'Hey! I know who you are. Aren't you Snape's foster child?'

_Oh, this is just awesome, the whole bloody school already knows..._

'Really,' the other twin inquired. 'I can't imagine Snape with a child. I mean, doesn't he get into a coffin with his homeland earth every night?'

'Fred!' his brother exclaimed, horrified. Connor kept a straight face.

'No. But we got a tank filled with formol in the kitchen, where he sleeps every night. That's how he preserves himself, see: he's over two hundred years old.'

The three of them stared at him for a moment, astonished... and then the twin called Fred laughed.

'Well, that'd explain a lot. Anyway... good luck. You're going to need it.'

Connor frowned. 'What do you mean?'

The three boys exchanged knowing glances.

'Wait for your first Potions class, and you'll see...'

So far, Connor's morning was just _great_.

* * *

A huge, square building was in front of him. The walls were made of grey, cold concrete, in urgent need of a new layer of paint. The windows were small and far between, so inside it would be cold and obscure. He noted that some of the windows were broken, and that all of them had bars on them, and he also saw that a barbed-wire fence enclosed the outer yard. There were bits of broken bottles and sweets wrappers on the floor of the yard, and nothing else; and now that he looked closer he noticed there was graffiti on the walls. In all, he thought the building resembled more a penitentiary than a primary school. His new primary school, to be more precise.

Harry shot an uncertain glance at his godfather, who tried to look reassuring.

'C'mon, Harry. I bet it's not so bad inside. There'll be loads of children there.'

Harry remained silent. He didn't want to tell Sirius that was one of his biggest fears. In the last couple of schools he'd attended to, he hadn't gotten along very well with his classmates. Actually, it had gone pretty badly for him.

He saw Sirius shooting a quick glance to his watch, and remembered this was his first day at work. He suddenly felt guilty, he didn't want Sirius to be late on his first day because of him.

'Well, bye then, Sirius. See you later.'

Sirius smiled nervously. 'Bye, Harry. Good luck.'

Harry nodded, forcing a smile, and waved a hand at his godfather. He watched him walk away with a heavy heart, and turned to face his new school. He had a feeling he would need all the good luck he could get.

He walked towards the entrance steps, and to his shock he saw a small group of boys smoking there. Harry frowned. Those kids couldn't be much older than himself.

One of them, a huge, square-shouldered boy who was thrice Harry's size, noticed him staring and spit on the floor right in front of Harry's left foot.

'What're ya lookin' at, midget?' His voice was low and menacing, and it suited his mean face perfectly.

'Nothing,' Harry mumbled. 'I'm new here.'

The boy sneered and mimicked him in a baby tone: '_Nothing. I'm new here._ Are you a poofter or what?'

'Let him be, Curly. Konnerig's already mad at you.'

The boy named Curly (could that really be his name?) snorted. 'I'll never get that old bitch off my back, will I?' He turned to glare at Harry. 'Get lost.'

_As you wish, Your Highness._ Harry suppressed a snort and hastened to get inside the building.

In spite of what Sirius'd said, the school didn't look much better on the inside. The paint was almost completely gone, the floor was ramshakled and there were damp stains on the ceiling. There was a funny smell too, which filled Harry's nostrils and made him sneeze.

He saw several children along the hallway, all talking in small groups. Many of them stopped talking for a moment when he walked past them and eyed him, to start talking again once he'd gone by. Harry needed to ask where his class was, but he was uncertain to approach any of the groups. They all seemed oddly hostile to him, as though they didn't like the clothes he was wearing or something. Perhaps it was his imagination, but...

Finally, he decided to approach a girl that was sitting by herself on the stairs. She was chewing some gum and flipped the pages of a teen magazine.

'Hey,' Harry said. The girl looked up and frowned.

'What do you want?' she snarled. Harry started, but recovered at once, and asked her where his class was.

The girl was still frowning, as she seemed convinced that Harry had some dark motive to approach her. Then, when she couldn't find anything suspicious about Harry, she dignified him with an answer.

'It's down that corridor, the last door on the left.' Her gaze returned to her magazine.

'Oh. Thanks.' Harry turned to leave, then hesitated. 'Um, I'm new here...'

'I noticed,' she replied, her eyes still glued to the colourful pages.

'Yeah, I know... Anyway, my name's Harry.'

She looked up and shot him an indifferent glance. 'Interesting.' She kept reading her magazine, ignoring Harry completely. _Well, so much for polite small talk._

The bell rang, and the students began to head towards their respective classrooms. Harry, ignoring the rude girl, did the same and walked down the corridor, along with a bunch of children his age who chattered excitedly among themselves. He reached the class and picked one of the seats at the end of the room and sat down. He hadn't started pulling out his stuff from his bag when he heard a cold, familiar voice behind him:

'Hey, what are you doing there? That's _my_ seat.'

Harry looked up and saw a skinny, brown-haired boy whose head was a little too big for his body. It took him a moment to recognize him: it had been the one who had told Curly off.

'I didn't know it was marked.'

The boy sneered. 'It doesn't have to be. It's mine.'

A tall, gangly boy with a harelip sniggered. Both of them towered over Harry.

Harry didn't want to get in trouble on his first day, so he rose from the seat, took his stuff and moved towards the closest seat – but the big-headed boy snarled:

'That seat's taken, too.'

Glaring at him, Harry finally took at seat next to the window, as far from the two boys as possible. He watched the other children dully as they fiddled with their bags and chattered. None of them seemed to have acknowledged his persona.

Suddenly, the whole class fell silent, and Harry could see why: a short, stern-looking woman had entered. She had dirty blonde hair, which looked really unkempt, clear grey eyes and a tweed jacket. Harry found that she reminded him of somebody else, and soon it struck him: her jacket was exactly alike the one his Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, used to wear. It wasn't a nice memory.

She eyed the class closely, and her gaze stopped a moment on Harry, then kept sweeping the students' faces.

'Well, we see each other again. In case you've forgotten, I'm Mrs. Konnerig, and I don't tolerate fooling around in my class. This is the last year you'll attend this school: next year you will go to secondary school, and you need to be prepared for that new stage in your lives... so yes, ladies and gentlemen, that means we are going to work harder than ever.' There were several groans heard at those words. 'So there's no time to waste. We won't start this year by 'My Holidays' composition, which I'm sure will be a disappointment to you all – instead, we're starting with division and multiplication.'

She turned and began to look for something in her bag, when a cracking noise was heard. Harry looked up and saw the door had opened again, to show the enormous form of no one else than Curly himself. Mrs. Konnerig shot him a dirty look, which didn't erase the smugness of his face.

'Carlson. Late, as usual. What are you doing there? Sit down already.'

Curly – also known as Carlson – headed towards the back of the class, and sat on the seat Harry had been told was taken. Curly said something under his breath to the two boys who'd kicked Harry out from his seat, and they sniggered. Mrs. Konnerig rolled her eyes.

'Well, now we are all here –' she shot another glare at Curly and his friends '– I'll start taking the register.'

She did so, and stopped when she said Harry's name.

'We have a new student with us this year – Harry Potter, stand up. Tell us something about yourself.'

When he rose from his seat, a loud raspberry sound was heard. Mrs. Konnerig glared, not at Curly, but at the big-headed boy. 'Alan Greenburg – be quiet.'

Fortunately, Harry was used to doing this sort of thing, as he moved a lot and in each new school he was asked to speak about himself. That didn't mean it didn't make him feel nervous, and he stammered a few times. When he said he lived with his godfather, the inevitable question was heard:

'Where are your parents?'

Harry looked at the girl with long, black plaits that had spoken. 'Died.'

There was a 'ooooohhh', and a snort from Alan Greenburg. Harry hated this. It was so annoying the way people looked at him with sympathy because of his parents' death. Sure, he was sad about it, but he didn't like to be pitied.

The rest of the lesson didn't go very well. He did a simple equation wrong and Alan and his friends sniggered and he got a frown from Mrs. Konnerig. Then, they had to team up for a project and he was left alone, so the teacher had to force a group of children to accept him; and to cap all matters he found that he was far behind the rest of the class, so Mrs. Konnerig told him that, if he didn't improve soon, he'd have to take extra lessons.

At lunchtime, Harry found himself sitting alone at the cafeteria. No one had been willing to share a table with the boy who seemed to have attracted Curly's (his real name was Francis Carlson) and his friends, Alan and Mark (known as Marko) Schwan, attention. Evidently, the three of them were feared throughout the school, much like his cousin Dudley had been.

He was eating a tuna sandwich that Sirius had prepared for him that morning when he felt a tight grip on his shoulder. Swallowing the bit of tuna in his throat, he turned around and found himself face to face with his three new 'friends': Curly, Alan and Marko had all smug looks on their faces.

'Look who's here: Lil' Mr. "I'm new here".'

'Ooohhh, did your foster daddy make you that sandwich? 'Cause y'know, I'm feeling pretty hungry right now...'

Alan tried to snatch the sandwich from Harry's hands, but he put it away. Alan frowned.

'Who the hell do you think you are, four-eyed midget? Learn a new rule: we want something, we get it.'

Harry, trying to ignore the way Curly was rubbing his massive knuckles, shrugged.

'Well, you won't get my sandwich.' It was a lame comeback remark, but the boys reacted as if they'd been highly insulted.

'You, lil' pigeon...'

Curly seized Harry by his shoulders and raised him. The whole cafeteria had suddenly fallen silent – they were all absorbed at Harry's struggle to break free from the bigger boy's grip, as Marko and Alan laughed out loud.

'Look at him, how pathetic...'

Harry kicked Curly's groin, who let out a cry of pain and dropped him to the floor. His friends stopped laughing at once.

Marko towered over Harry. 'I'm gonna smash your face...' It was the first time Harry heard him speak, and it wasn't exactly what he would have liked to hear. His gaze began to search for an adult, and let out a relieved sigh when he saw a teacher entering the cafeteria. Alan seemed to have noted it too, because he put a hand on Marko's arm.

'It's not worth it, mate.'

He smirked at Harry and took his glass. 'Ooops,' he said, and he poured its contents on Harry's head. 'Sorry. Now your hair looks even worse.'

Laughing, he and Marko helped Curly to stand up and marched away. Harry was fuming. He jumped to his feet and tried to dry himself with some tissues – but his hair was now all sticky and smelly. Sighing, he strode out of the cafeteria, the other children's laughter ringing in his ears, and spent the rest of the lunchtime trying to clean himself up in the boys' bathroom.

When Sirius came to pick him up, he asked how his first day had gone. Harry opened his mouth to start complaining – when he noted that the hands grabbing the wheel were white, and that there was an unfamiliar edge to Sirius' voice. The smile on his face looked rather forced, too, and in spite of it he could see that the look in Sirius eyes was glum. _Seems like I'm not the only one who's had a tough day._

'Oh... Fine, I guess.'

* * *

Connor's life at Hogwarts hadn't improved by the end of the week. With the clear exception of his mother's and Spike's letters, which were encouraging and funny, even his mail was glum. At his second day at school he received a letter from Mr. Banerji, telling him in a stern tone (Connor could picture his old teacher's face as he wrote the letter just by reading it) that he was the first one in five years who failed the test with a 65 of probability. Much to his own surprise (and dismay), Mr. Malfoy sent him a letter, that said he considered "it just a pity to see such a potential wasted". Anyone would have said that Connor's school career was over, as though he'd been expelled and not been sent to Gryffindor.

But probably the letter that discouraged him the most was the one Theo Nott sent him. At first, Connor had been surprised when he'd seen the thick roll of parchment attached to his friend's owl. Theo would never become famous for his long letters. Connor still remembered the time he'd gone two months on vacation, and all Draco and he had gotten were exactly two lines, addressed to both of them. Connor unfolded the piece of parchment, and soon it became painfully evident why Theo'd used so much parchment.

A

R

E

Y

O

U

O

U

T

O

F

Y

O

U

R

M

I

N

D

Certainly Theo didn't agree with his decision of going to Gryffindor. It wasn't like it surprised him at all, but it wouldn't have hurt him showing a little more moral support.

The letters, though, were the last of his problems. The first morning at Hogwarts, he'd thought Miles was delusional, but after a few days he began to realise there was too much true in what he'd said to ignore. Gryffindor and Slytherin hated each other with passion, and there were no friendships between members of both houses. As a matter of fact, although not all, but many of the children whom he knew from Slytherin – including Caleb Wiggum – weren't talking to him anymore.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he had had someone else to talk to. Eddie was too engrossed with his new friends from Ravenclaw and the same could be said about those who'd gone to Hufflepuff. In Gryffindor, things were a little more complicated.

Janus Rutherford might have lacked many virtues, but he was born a leader. Well, sort of. At least the two boys from the first night, Ferris Federer and Humphrey Kane, followed him around like lap dogs and laughed at everything he said or did. It was utterly annoying.

Anyway, as Janus Rutherford didn't like Connor Angel, neither did Ferris and Humphrey. So they weren't particularly talkative to him. On the other hand, the Muggle-born boy seemed nice, but Connor didn't know him at all, and Geoffrey Hooper, although he wasn't such a jerk like Janus and his friends, had never been close to him. Benny Dunstar was the one he talked to the most, as he disliked Janus almost as much as Connor did, but it was difficult getting along with him, as he had quite a temper and got offended easily. He hadn't spoken to Connor during a whole morning just because he'd said the Ballycastle's Seeker stunk. Geez, how touchy.

Vicky didn't like Janus either, unlike the rest of the girls in her dorm as far as he knew. However, they weren't talking much these days because, just like Eddie, she was too absorbed by her new friends, all girls, all addicted to giggling. Connor couldn't see what Vicky liked about them. The only Gryffindor girl with whom he could keep an interesting conversation was Katie Bell, who liked Quidditch as much as any boy. The rest of them seemed terribly stupid to Connor, and the rest of the boys thought the same. Well, except for Janus, who seemed to like feminine attention. _What a ponce_.

In short, Connor's first days at Hogwarts were very lonely. And that wasn't all. Not only Janus and company seemed to dislike him, but some of the older students glared at Connor as he passed by, and sometimes he could hear them whispering to each other:

'There goes Snape's brat... What's he doing in Gryffindor, anyway?'

Secretly, Connor had begun to wonder the same.

Of course all the teachers he'd met were now acting as though they'd never seen him before, even McGonagall, but that didn't surprise him. After all, he wouldn't have liked to be treated differently.

But Severus was another story. He didn't even look at Connor anymore. The boy was starting to think that he was terribly mad at him for not going to Slytherin, and so he was giving him the cold treatment. This made Connor to feel even more miserably. And he'd been so happy to go to Hogwarts...

On that Friday, Connor had his very first Potions lesson, which was also the first time he'd see Severus face to face since they'd arrived to Hogwarts. And, as it couldn't have been otherwise, things went downhill right from the beginning...

Connor ran down the hallway, panting. He was late for Potions, all because of that stupid book he hadn't been able to find, and Severus always got so mad with those that arrived late...

When he reached the door, he let out a relieved sigh. Severus wasn't there yet. However, the students had already settled down: Janus with Ferris; Humphrey and Geoffrey; Matthew and Benny, and also the girls had sat in pairs, as Enya Pelzer, the fifth one, was at the hospital wing due to a broken wrist (she'd learnt the hard way that the castle's stairs tended to move). So, by the time Connor arrived, there wasn't a Gryffindor he could sit down with. He noticed Janus smug grin.

He also noticed an empty seat next to a tall, dark-haired Slytherin boy. Connor hesitated a moment. He was already considered a traitor to his House for speaking to Slytherins, as Janus had pointed out several times. If he sat with one of them, his school career would be doomed forever.

_So what?_, a tiny voice said inside his head. _Why would I stop doing something just because other people say so, when I know there's nothing wrong about it? Why would I turn into something I'm not just so they like me? Wouldn't that turn me into a hypocrite?_

Throwing caution to the winds, Connor headed towards the Slytherin boy confidently, under his fellow Gryffindor's stunned looks.

'Hey, is this seat taken?'

The Slytherin looked up from the magazine he'd been reading and frowned as he eyed Connor's red and yellow tie and the Gryffindor blazon on his chest. Connor noticed the boy looked like he'd spent an hour in front of the mirror to make his hair look perfect, and that he got really white teeth. Suddenly, there was a look of dawning comprehension on the Slytherin's face.

'Oh, wait... You are Connor Angel.'

Connor would have liked to let out an exasperated snort. Did he have a stigma on his forehead or what?

'Yep, that's me.'

'Oh,' the boy said. Then he smiled, with the slightest hint of self-consciousness. 'Well, I guess you can sit with me. No other Slytherin wanted to do so.'

'Why not?' Connor asked as he sat down. The boy shrugged.

'I guess because I know I'm going to be a nightmare in Potions, and nobody wants to be close to me as I blow up my first cauldron.'

He said this in such a matter-of-fact tone that Connor had a hard time trying not to laugh.

'Well, then it's your lucky day, 'cause I'm not bad at this.'

The boy beamed, putting his magazine away, and said brightly:

'Then you're my savior. Hey, my name's Alden Higgs.' He held out his hand to shake Connor's. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see the horrified expression on Janus' face. Geez, he was acting as if Connor had sat with a leprous person or something worse. _What the hell..._ He shook Alden's hand. After all, he seemed nice... And why did everyone act like all Slytherins had an infectious disease or something? Ok, they could not be nice at all – Miles Bletchley or the soon-to-be Slytherin Draco Malfoy came to his mind – but they weren't monsters, for heaven's sake. Why was everyone so stupid?

'So, you have an idea of how to do this, right? 'Cause I've heard Professor Snape's lessons are so difficult and all...' The frown on Alden's face eased. 'Of course, he always treats Slytherins better, doesn't he? I mean, he won't be so hard on me as he's bound to be with any Gryffindor, right?'

_Right you are._ Connor didn't fool himself: Severus wanted his House to win the Cup and he never hesitated to favour Slytherin above all houses. He never treated students that belonged to the other three houses very well ... and Connor would be no exception. _Well, you didn't want to be treated differently, did you?_

'I wouldn't worry that much if I were you, he always goes easy on Slytherins. By the way, don't you have an older brother or something?'

Alden nodded. 'Yep. Terence's in fifth year. He's a member of the Quidditch team, see.' Alden bit his lower bit. 'He's always mocking me 'cause I don't play Quidditch that well... He says I'm a sissy 'cause I worry if my hair gets ruined. But do you know how hard is to make a hair like mine straight?'

Connor was at a sudden loss of words. Fortunately, Alden noticed nothing, as Severus chose that very moment to make his entrance. It was a rather dramatic one, with his black robes swirling behind him, and all the students fell silent at once and watched him apprehensively. Severus reached his desk and turned to face them, and many children suppressed a wince at his piercing glare, and probably they all gulped. Severus Snape had the rare gift of making people feel guilty before doing anything.

He began taking the register, fixing his black eyes on each one of the children as he read their names outloud. Many of them paled when they were addressed, even the Slytherins, as if they were expecting the hammer to fall over their heads. And then it got worse with Severus' little speech.

Every year, Severus gave the first-years a short, sharp speech. It didn't change much over the years, and it didn't need to, as it always had the same effect: to shake his younger students just enough so they'd learn from day one that there was no fooling around in his class.

This year wasn't different. Certainly by the end of the speech all pupils, both Gryffindors and Slytherins, were holding their breaths and looked apprehensive. Connor naturally didn't feel the same way, as he'd already heard the speech a couple of times, but did his best to keep his face unfathomable. He wasn't going to laugh – although Janus' petrified face was a nice sight.

And then the class began. They were set to prepare a simple potion to cure boils, the same one Severus taught every year in his first class. Although it wasn't so simple, not for a regular first-year as it could be a little tricky, but if you paid attention you would do all right. The problem was that it was a little hard to pay attention with Professor Snape's breath on your neck, constantly pointing out what you were doing wrong.

Soon it became obvious that Slytherins were his favourites. When he walked past a cauldron where two Slytherins were working, he stopped to help them or to praise what they were doing right. However, when he walked past Gryffindors, he made snide remarks and criticized sharply. His sarcastic comments stung like smacks, and soon all Gryfindors were jumpy and kept throwing paranoid glances over their shoulders. Janus was having a particularly hard time at potion-making, which would have delighted Connor if it hadn't been because he wasn't doing any better.

Years later, Connor would laugh while remembering his first Potions class, the way people laugh about past humiliations long ago forgotten and forgiven. However, at the given time Connor couldn't have wished to laugh any less.

As he'd been preparing potions under Severus' supervision since he was six or seven, he found the potion in question rather easy to prepare, and it was a lucky thing, because Alden had no idea of what he was doing, and he certainly had a hard time trying to focus his attention on something he couldn't have cared less for. So Connor naïvely thought, more or less, that Potions lesson would be a piece of cake. Of course, he'd forgotten about Severus.

If any other Gryffindor got a snide remark, surely Connor would get three. If any Gryffindor who was sitting nearby made a mistake, then it was surely Connor's fault for not warning them. Instead, if Connor tried to give another student some tips, or if he tried to explain something about potion-making to Alden (who was completely ignored by Severus, much to the boy's relief), he was sharply reminded that Professor Snape was the teacher and not him, and that he'd better stop showing off.

'Mr. Angel, we are delighted to see you have a vast knowledge of Potions, but I would appreciate if you minded your own work and stopped giving Dunstar indications. If he is too dim to make his own potion it's his problem, and you should probably stop showing off as well.'

Or:

'Mr. Angel, it looks like you haven't learnt to use a knife properly, those roots are all of different sizes. If you keep on like this, you'll chop off your own fingers.'

Or:

'Mr. Angel, aren't you able to keep your mouth shut during lessons? I'll have to take a point from Gryffindor for that.'

Connor opened his mouth to protest at Severus' unfairness: Alden had been talking, not him. Severus raised an eyebrow, a sneer forming on his face:

'Do you want to say something, Mr. Angel?'

Connor gritted his teeth. 'No, sir.'

It was driving Connor nuts. Severus just wouldn't leave him alone, no matter the disaster some of the other students were making with their potions. Just everything Connor did or stopped doing was wrong, and Severus had no problem in showing this to the rest of the class. Although the best way to say it would be that he seemed to have no problem with humiliating him in front of the entire class. Much to his own disgust, Connor was reminded of Severus' father last – and only – visit, two years ago. He'd felt exactly the same way: like he couldn't do anything more or less right.

But the last straw was at the end of the lesson. Severus was lecturing Connor, in a carrying voice so everyone would hear, on his lack of concentration and how that could mean a disaster while potion-making. Connor was fed up. He was perfectly able to concentrate, but Severus would not let him! He was so angry at the whole situation that his hands were clenched in fists under his desk, and finally his temper got the better of him.

'I'm sure I would be able to focus on the task at hand if I weren't constantly distracted, _sir_.'

There was a tense silence, as everyone understood at once the hidden meaning in Connor's words. They all held their breaths as they watched the glaring contest between teacher and student, and waited for Snape's reaction.

'Do you have any complaints about the way I teach, Mr. Angel? Because I am afraid that in this case your point of view is irrelevant.' He bent to inspect Connor's potion, and sneered. 'This is completely wrong. Its colour isn't bright enough, it shouldn't look this opaque. I'm afraid you'll have to make this again.'

'But...'

Connor's potion was one of the few that were of the right shade of colour, whereas there were other that were completely wrong. Ok, it was a little opaque, but it wasn't such a serious mistake...

'_Evanesco._' With a flick of Severus wand, Connor's potion vanished. All the work he'd done during the whole class had just been _vanished_ in a second. He couldn't believe it. But that wasn't all...

'As I have said, you will have to prepare it again... in detention.' There was a collective gasp at this words. Connor couldn't believe it. Had Severus really just given him a detention just because his potion wasn't perfect? In his first week at school? 'Seven o'clock, in my office. Now put your things away. Class dismissed,' he added as the bell rang.

Connor was fuming, too furious to utter a word. He got his things inside his bag at once and strode through the door, ignoring Alden's hesitant "bye", ignoring Vicky's concerned look, ignoring the sympathy in the other Gryffindors' eyes and the sniggering from a group of Slytherins and, of course, not looking at all at Janus and his group. He strode down the hallway, eager to get away from the dungeons, and practically ran his way upstairs. He walked past the path that led to Gryffindor Tower and the double doors that led to the Great Hall, as he wasn't in the mood to see anybody. He needed some fresh air, so he got outside the castle and sat on the entrance stairs.

He had to inhale several deep breaths in order to calm himself down, as he rubbed the palm of his hands where his nails had left marks. Merlin, he was so angry. He'd known that Severus wasn't going to give him special treatment, and Connor hadn't wanted it anyway, but that didn't mean Severus had to treat him much worse than everybody else. For Merlin's beard, he'd given Connor detention on his first Potions class, all because his potion wasn't one hundred percent perfect...

Well, if he was honest to himself, Severus hadn't given him detention just because of the potion, but also for the way Connor'd replied. But what was he supposed to do, after getting all that crap from Severus during the whole class? He was human, too!

That afternoon, his classmates acted very strangely. Janus was unusually quiet and he didn't tease Connor like always, and much to his disgust Connor noticed that many of the children looked at him with pity in their eyes, including Vicky. He even overheard Opal Trent telling Enya Pelzer what had happened during Potions class, and saying how sorry she felt for Connor.

'Imagine, living with an ogre like that! His childhood must have been a nightmare... Imagine a never-ending Potions lesson!'

Even Benny Dunstar seemed to worry over him. He told Connor that Severus detentions were dreadful – as if Connor didn't know it himself – and that he should speak to McGonagall.

Connor appreciated the other children's concern, but it was disturbing. He wasn't an abused child. He'd always been happy with Severus, and Severus hadn't been anything but nice to him... That is, until he got to Hogwarts.

Right after dinner, Connor headed towards Severus office. He'd walked down that corridor many times, usually excited and cheerful as he expected Severus to show him something interesting. This time, though, was completely different. Connor was in an awful mood. It wasn't just because of what had happened in Potions class, but also because of the way Severus had been giving him some sort of cold treatment, and Connor couldn't understand why. He'd done nothing to upset Severus like that. Unless...

Unless Severus was terribly mad at him for going to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. After all, nearly everyone seemed to think it had been a huge mistake, that there had been something wrong about his sorting: Mr. Banerji, Mr. Malfoy, Theo, Miles; some of his fellow Gryffindors... Why would Severus be any different? After all, it was only natural that he would want his child to go to the same House he'd gone. And he was the Head of that House, nonetheless. But it wasn't Connor's fault: it had been the Sorting Hat's decision, not his.

_Liar, you asked not to go to Slytherin..._

Connor slowed down his step as he got closer and finally stopped in front of the dark wooden door. He took a deep breath. _Here we go..._ He raised his hand and knocked.

'Come in.'

Connor opened the door, walked in and closed it behind him, careful not to make a sound. Severus was sitting behind his desk, almost buried by a pile of rolls of parchment. There was a frown on his face, and he only looked up when Connor cleared his throat. Severus merely pointed at a nearby table, where a cauldron and all the ingredients were set.

'Start.'

Connor bit his lower lip and nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

During the whole time Connor was busy making the potion, he and Severus didn't exchange a word. The room was completely silent, except for the sound of Connor's knife and the screeching of Severus' quill on the parchment. Every now and then, Severus would let out a snort or an exasperated exclamation ('it had to be one of those Weasleys to be such a dunderhead'). It was almost like it had been back at home, when Severus corrected his students' homework and Connor did his own... but this time there was something different. The atmosphere wasn't the same: it was tense, as if Connor's anger and Severus' cold indifference were intoxicating the air surrounding them.

This time, Connor had no problems preparing the potion as he didn't get interrupted once. He looked proudly at what he'd done. Not even Severus would be able to criticize it now.

'Professor, I've just finished.'

Severus didn't bother to look up from the parchment he was correcting.

'Good. You may go now.'

Connor didn't move from his spot, astounded.

'But, sir, aren't you going to check it?'

Severus shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the parchment.

'What for? I know you can do such a stupid potion by yourself with no problem.'

Connor couldn't believe his ears. Had Severus made him come here _for nothing_?

'Excuse me, sir, but then why did you make me come here at all?'

This time, Severus looked up.

'Because you had a detention.'

'Yes, sir, I understand that, but _why_?'

Severus put down his quill and looked at Connor with a stern expression on his face.

'I gave you detention to make clear that there are certain things that I will not tolerate in my class. Students snapping at me is one of them.'

'I didn't snap! Well, maybe a little. But after the way you treated me during the whole class, it's no wonder I lost my temper!'

Severus' eyes narrowed. 'That's _exactly_ what you can't do. In my class, students don't reply to the teacher when he says something. In my class, my orders and only my orders are obeyed at once. In my class, when I speak, you listen. Is that clear?'

Connor gritted his teeth. 'Yes, sir. May I go now?'

Severus looked at him intently. 'No. Sit down.'

'But the detention was over...'

'I _told_ you to sit down.'

Grudgingly, Connor did so and glared at Severus, who seemed annoyingly unaffected by this.

'That's exactly what I was talking about. You can't talk back to a teacher like that, and you especially can't do that to me. I don't tolerate it from anyone and least of all from you, not during lessons. Understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

Severus kept staring at him, as if he were trying to look through Connor. It was beginning to give him the creeps, but he didn't move a muscle and didn't break eye-contact. Finally Severus broke the silence.

'What's your problem, Connor?'

Connor blinked, astonished. 'You ask me what's my problem? Shouldn't I be asking you that, after the way you treated me?'

'That's the standard way I treat my students, Connor. I thought you would know it by now.'

'No, that's not the standard way you treat your students, not even Gryffindors. You barely left me alone, nothing I did was right, you always picked me to mock in front of the entire class, I was the only one who had to do the potion again...' Connor blurted out, and despite this was exactly what Severus had told him not to do, he went on: 'I think you're the one who has a problem, a problem with me. What did I do wrong? Why are you so mad with me?'

'Connor, I'm not mad at you...'

'Well, you got a funny way of showing it.'

They stared at each other for a moment, Severus' eyes expressionless; Connor's burning from rage.

'It's because I didn't go to Slytherin, isn't it? That's why you're mad at me.'

Severus blinked, confused. 'What are you talking about, Connor?'

Connor wanted to state his reasons slowly and clearly, in a rational way... But, instead, all that came out of his mouth was another rant.

'That I didn't go to Slytherin, like I was supposed to, and I went to Gryffindor instead, and you've always hated Gryffindors, so I've just disappointed you like I've disappointed everybody else...'

Severus head jerked up. 'Who's told you such nonsense?'

Connor deflated. 'Nearly everybody, from Lucius Malfoy to Miles Bletchley, so I thought you were bound to feel disappointed too...'

Severus didn't answer. Instead, he rose from his seat, circled the desk and kneeled in front of Connor, so their eyes would be at the same level.

'Connor, it doesn't matter what other people say. I'm not disappointed with you.'

The boy frowned. 'Aren't you? But, didn't you want me to go to Slytherin...?'

Severus bit his lower lip. 'Well, I have to admit that, like any other parent, I would have felt proud if you'd have followed in my steps. But that doesn't me I'm disappointed because you've gone to Gryffindor.'

'But you don't like Gryffindor...'

Severus' lips curved a little. 'Well, it was about time that something good came out from that House.'

Connor gave him a faint smile that soon faded away. 'Mr. Banerji's test said that I should have gone to Slytherin...'

The man waved a hand. 'Those are only statistics, Connor. The true test is the Sorting Hat. And it put you in Gryffindor, so Gryffindor is the place you belong. And if Gryffindor is your essence, how could I hate it?' He put a hand on Connor's shoulder. 'Never mind what other people say, you're right where you should be.'

'Then... Then you aren't mad at me?'

Severus smiled at him fondly. 'Of course not. Why do you keep saying that?'

Connor frowned. 'Well, perhaps because of the way you treated me in class...'

The man tilted his head to one side and eyed Connor intently.

'I see. Connor, don't you get it? I _have_ to treat you like that. I can't favour any student –' Connor narrowed his eyes and Snape amended: 'Any student that's not from Slytherin, that is. Otherwise I would be accused of showing favouritism... and that'd be much worse for you than for me, can't you see?'

Connor remembered Janus' snide remarks at once and nodded. 'That doesn't mean I'll like it much.'

Severus smiled, a little sadly. 'No, I guess you won't.' He shot a quick glance at his watch. 'So, as it's still early... what about a game of chess?'

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, this is certainly a long chapter and I hope you've all enjoyed it. The next, Chapter Twenty,is called 'Bullying'... which I think is a rather telling title so I'll say no more. I'll publish it as soon as my beta finishes correcting it. See you!

**Sparky:** It's always great to see that new people get interested in the fic, and thanks a lot for all your comments. I felt very proud when you said that you enjoyed this in spite of not liking Connor that much in Atvs. Thank you so much, and keep reading!

I think that I've already answered your question of how Snape and Connor's Slytherin friends were going to react, haven't I?

**Jesse:** That _was_ unexpected, wasn't it? I mean, for a while, when I had just started with this, not even I knew where Connor would go. My first choice wa Slytherin but then, as the story progressed, I realised that wasn't the place for him. Hopefully, other people, like Snape, will see it too... or not. Poor Connor. Sometimes I'm just too mean to him... and Harry, as well.

**Luna Moonlight Fawn:** It's certainly going to be interesting having Connor in Gryffindor, don't you think? And yes, I think that the 'true colours' thing could apply to anyone... Thanks for your encouragement and your good wishes, too.


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes:** I know, I know. This chapter has taken forever - but I swear that it wasn't my fault. When I uploaded Chapter Nineteen, not only had I already written this chapter, but I had already sent it to my beta. She usually is incredibly fast, but this time real life caught up with her and she was unable to correct the chapter. Finally I decided that the update had taken too long and decided to upload the chapter anyway, but bear in mind it hasn't been betaed. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Bullying**

Things didn't go downright okey for Connor after the chat with Severus. Actually, life at Hogwarts kept being rather difficult for him during the following days. He still had to endure the glares and snide remarks from his housemates, many of them several years older and several inches taller than Connor, especially after any of them got a particularly low mark in Potions. He still had to endure that most of his dormates had chosen Janus Rutherford as their leader, who kept making derisive comments about how Connor should have gone to Slytherin, how everything was bound to be a piece of cake if you were one of the teachers' child, and how certain people didn't have friends at all...

The last one was the one that hurt Connor the most, even though it was stupid. After all, he had friends... they just weren't in his dormitory. And there always was Benny Dunstar, but in spite of the camarederie of the first night, Connor wasn't sure whether they were going to be friends. Their tempers didn't match, and sometimes it was really hard to get on well with the boy.

And, of course, he still had the lessons. Some of them – like History of Magic or Astronomy – weren't difficult at all for Connor. On the other hand, he already knew Transfiguration was bound to be his downfall. Knowing it was an important subject and, besides, it was _McGonagall's_ subject, he put all his effort on it... only to make very little, if not any, progress. Transfiguration, Connor feared, just wasn't his thing. Herbology was a nightmare, too: plants just seemed to die at his touch. Like his mother, whose flowers always died within a couple of hours, he was just unable to keep the plants alive. Professor Sprout had begun to glare at him whenever he came into the Greenhouse. Charms was all right – but who could really do badly with Flitwick?

Another lesson that turned out to be a huge disappointment for Connor – and nearly all his classmates – was Defence Against the Dark Arts. They had all been eager to start studying dark creatures and throwing counter-jinxes at each other – but soon they realised that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Right from day one, Professor Lysandra Nicodemou made clear that first-years would only study theory, which meant no dangerous creatures, no counter-jinxes and, of course, no duelling. Instead, she lectured them on the ethical difference between common magic and Dark magic, the time and hystorical context when that difference had been established, and the legislation that regulated it, and other equally boring-to-death subjects. Connor had eagerly read his syllabus only to find that the rest of the year was going to be exactly the same: all boring theory.

Professor Nicodemou seem to enjoy teaching her lessons almost as litte his students liked attending them. It was rumoured that, due to a recent illness, she'd been forced to temporarily quit an important charge at the Department of Magical Catastrophes, and in desperate need of cash she'd accepted Dumbledore's offer to teach at Hogwarts.

Connor didn't know whether the rumours were right or not, but it would have certainly explained the little patience she had with her students. It would also have explained the lack of control she had over her class – even first-years rebelled to the boredom of her lessons, and sometimes not even her yelling in her dreadfully high-pitched voice was enough to keep her students quiet for long. She certainly didn't have Severus' and Professor McGonagall's gift to catch their students' attention without raising their voices. Instead she screamed, and the majority of the children ended up with a headache after the end of most lessons. In all, she wasn't one of the most popular teachers.

However, the position of Most Unpopular Teacher at Hogwarts was still Severus'. All Gryffindors groaned every time they headed towards the dungeons, but none of them did it with more reason than Connor Angel. Severus' treatment hadn't improved at all since their chat, but at least Connor had learnt to avoid detention by keeping his mouth shut.

Precisely after one disastrous Potions lessons, Connor was chatting with Alden Higgs, who'd just introduced him one of his friends, Linus Scrimgeour. Connor hadn't believed possible that two friends could be so different from each other. Alden was a self-centered boy, who could chat excitedly and non-stop about anything and that cared a little more than other boys his age about his physical appearence – well, perhaps more than a little. He could easily be labeled as shallow, as he usually cared more about trifle stuff than he did about, for instance, his marks. Scrimgeour, on the contrary, was Alden's opposite. The best one could say about his appearence was that he looked... neat. He was very serious-looking and he was obsessed over his marks. He had already mentioned to Connor that he was preparing to become Prefect – and that was ages away! Definitely, those two were an odd pair.

Scrimgeour was talking about the Prefects' selection process, as Alden complained about the unfairness of the rule that didn't allow first-years to go to Hogsmeade, when they reached the Entrance Hall and walked past Janus Rutherford and Matthew Brennan. Connor waved a hand to Matthew and ignored Janus completely. Instead, he said goodbye to Alden and Linus, who had to rush to another class. When he turned to head towards Gryffindor Tower, he heard Janus saying in an audible whisper:

'You have to be careful around certain people, Matt.'

Connor stopped dead on his tracks as he realised at once that the comment was meant for him. However, he did not turn around, neither did he show any other external signs of listening to the conversation.

'Why so?' There was a bemused, and yet curious, note in Matthew's voice. Janus let out a theatrical sigh.

'See, Matty, some people won't take it well the fact you belong to a Muggle family. Some might say that... well... you're inferior or something, and they can be nasty to you. Slytherins, in particular, got a reputation of treating Muggle-born children badly, and you should probably be careful with those who get along with them...'

It took a moment for Janus' words to sink in but when they did, they made quite an impact, which was probably what Janus had been looking for in the first place. What he wasn't prepared for was to _this_ kind of impact.

Connor spun so fast that he would have tripped hadn't it been for his amazing balance.

'What have you just said?'

Connor had taken many stuff from Janus lying down, but this was the last straw. For a long part of his life, Connor had been forced to see that there was a huge difference between him and the other children he knew, and it wasn't just the fact he didn't live with his parents. No, the huge difference many people had been unkind enough to point out when he was still a small boy was that, unlike most Hogsmeaders and other children he knew, like Draco Malfoy or Theo Nott, he didn't belong to a pure-blooded family. In other words, he was nothing but a filthy Mudblood. To some people he would never become a real wizard as his blood was tainted by his unworthy lineage.

At an early age, Connor had learnt to defend himself from those attacks, first with his fists and then with snide remarks. The insult still stung, though, and there were few things Connor hated more than being taunted about his impure bloodline.

However, that afternoon Connor discovered there was something much worse than being called a Mudblood, and that was beind unfairly accussed of being a rascist. Fury swelled inside him, his hands clenching into fists. Janus, unaware of the full iimpact of his words, looked at him with a sneer on his face.

'I said,' he replied slowly, as if he were talking to a toddler, 'that Matty should better get out of the way of certain people. That certain people might judge him because of his background.'

_All right, enough is enough, I don't care if I get expelled, I'm so going to smash this whelp's skull, right here, right now, no matter what Severus or McGonagall will do to me when they find out, don't care 'bout Janus' little gang's revenge, he's earned this..._

Connor took a deep breath... and made his decision.

'Well, then this is the first time that I think you're right about something.'

'_You think so?_'

Janus looked shocked, his eyes widening in incredulity. Matthew Brennan's eyes, on the other hand, narrowed and for a second Connor thought he'd seen the slightest hint of suspicion.

'Yeah, sure. There are loads of prejudiced people around here you might want to avoid, Matthew.'

The Muggle-born boy said nothing, but looked at Connor in the eye intently, as if he were trying to find something in there. Connor looked back, and slowly a gleam of understanding appeared in Matthew's eyes. Janus, on the other hand, still looked puzzled, although a hint of uncertain suspicion could be seen now in his eyes. Connor kept an unfathomable face and went on.

'It's the kind of people that would stick up their noses at you, and brag about how many generations of pure-blooded wizards their families have produced. They also think Muggle culture is inferior, so they don't even bother to learn about it – that's how some of them don't even know what electricity is.'

Janus head jerked up, and his eyes gleamed with fury when he finally understood what Connor's speech was aimed at.

During their fourth night at Hogwarts, Matthew had made the mistake to comment out loud that he hoped he wouldn't miss his beloved videogames too much, or TV programmes like The Simpsons. His fellow dormates, as it couldn't have been other way, had stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown red horns. They'd been curious about Matthew's words, but when he'd tried to explain them, most of them – including Janus, of course – couldn't help to laugh at the ridiculous stuff Muggles invented.

Matthew, who was more patient than most children his age, had even tried to explain Janus what electricity was. Janus, instead of admitting he was obviously too stupid to grasp the concept of stuff that worked without magic, had laughed it off and said that there was no way he'd ever get Muggle technology, as there hadn't been anyone with a single drop of Muggle blood in the Rutherfords' family tree for seven generations.

Naturally, the Muggle-born boy had nothing to reply to that, and he'd soon given up to try to explain his culture to his fellow classmates. Connor would have come to his rescue if he'd been present, but he generally avoided being in the same room with Janus as much as he could.

'What's that supposed to mean, _Angel_?' Janus hissed through gritted teeth. Connor shrugged.

'I don't know. Maybe you aren't as good as you think you are. After all, you're always picking on me...'

'Of course I pick on you! You're nothing but a second-handed Slytherin...'

'...who also happens to be a Muggle-born, and therefore, some might think you're a little racist.'

Janus' jaw fell open as his eyes widened in shock.

'You can't be a Muggle-born. You were raised by _Snape_ from all people...'

'Funny. I thought you were called a Muggle-born when neither of your parents had magical powers. As my mother is a manager in a Muggle hotel, and my father was very clearly a Muggle himself, I thought that made me a Muggle-born. Silly me.'

Matthew coughed, and his eyes were suspiciously glinting with amusement, but Janus merely ignored him, his whole attention focused on Connor.

'C'mon! If you are a Muggle-born, then why do you hang out so much with a bunch of Slytherins? Everyone knows...'

'...their reputation of rascism, yeah. But, funny thing, they've never picked up on me. Some other people, on the contrary...'

Janus now looked positively furious.

'_I'm _not a rascist person!'

Connor narrowed his eyes. 'Really? 'Cause from the way you laugh at Muggle culture, just because you're too dumb to get it, and the way you brag about your pure-blooded family, some people might think otherwise.'

Janus was temporary speechless. It was really funny to see him with such a dumb expression on his face, but this was getting tiring by now.

'I would like to keep discussing this issue with you but see, unlike others, I have more important things to do than listen to your babbling. Now, if you excuse me, I'll go back to the common room. Bye, Matthew.'

'Bye, Connor!' Matthew replied naturally. Only Merlin knew the effort it took him to do so, as he was barely suppressing his laughter.

That evening, at Gryffindor common room, Matthew Brennan sat on the armchair next to Connor's and they chatted a long time. Matthew was glad to find someone who spoke his same language, whereas Connor was glad to find out someone who couldn't have cared less about whether he'd been raised by Severus Snape or whether he hung out with Slytherins.

Perhaps it was a little early to say, as both children chatted about their favourite comics (Matthew's was Spiderman, Connor hadn't decided yet), whether it was the beggining of a beautiful friendship or not...

...but it had to start somehow, didn't it?

* * *

Harry looked both ways before taking a tentative step out in the sunshine. These days, he had to be extra careful when he went out to the playground. One could never know when _they_ would attack next, and during breaktimes he was particularly vulnerable.

To say that Harry's popularity at his new school hadn't increased since day one would have been an understatement. The first day was only a tester of the hell his life would turn into within the following days. The worst was yet to come.

It seemed that Curly, Marko and Alan Greenburg were the official bullies of the school. The Trio – as most people knew them – had no other occupation in their pitiful lives than to make their fellow classmates' lives as miserable as possible. And they were masterminds where causing pain and humiliation were concerned. Besides, they had a sixth sense to spot weaknesses – or at least Alan, who seemed to be the leader of the group, had. Obviously, neither of them had any trouble using them to their advantage. They loved to harass those they perceived as weak – and also those they had reasons, rational or not, not to like.

It was no mystery at the school that the Trio had taken a particular dislike for that skinny, spectacled boy called Harry Potter. Since the incident in the cafeteria, the three boys had decided to loathe the new child with passion and to make his life at school as hellish as possible. And God, they were succeding.

For one thing, they didn't let pass one single ocassion to bother him one way or another. Throwing paper balls during lessons, mocking him, hiding his stuff, pouring juice into his bag, were the most innocent things they did to him. Sure, they were annoying as hell, but that was nothing compared to the times they tried to chase him down in order to use him as a punching bag. Of course, they were much bigger than Harry, but luckily he was way faster than any of them, and so far they hadn't been able to catch him. Harry was well aware that he couldn't let himself be caught, or there'd be little left of him by the time the Trio was finished with him.

It didn't help that the school Harry was attending to was bound to be one of the worst in town. It was set in a poor neighbourhood, so many of its students had parents that were unemployed or had ill-paid jobs so the situation at home wasn't idyllic. Naturally, most of the children had a couple of issues of their own, and to cap matters there were few ill-paid teachers, who could barely deal with the increasing number of students. The natural conclusion was that mayhem and chaos had become the norm, and not the exception, within the walls of Harry's new school.

The only teacher who remained in full control of her class was Mrs. Koenig, nicknamed Fraulein Hitler by some of the more daring students. She was terribly strict, and not even a fly dared to make noise during her lessons. She also had a hideous temper, and her young students had soon learnt to fear her chilly tone and the small ruler she used to hit them on their fingers when they misbehaved. Actually, she brought Harry unpleasant memories of his Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, with one small difference: Mrs. Koenig had no favourites. To her, all her students were equally evil wrongdoers, although she admitted that some of them were more likely to turn into criminals when they grew up. The Trio was part of the last group so Mrs. Koenig never stopped watching them, which was a good thing: they couldn't bully Harry during her lessons. However, the rest of the time Harry was pretty much on his own.

Another drawback about his new school was that Harry had been unable to make any friends. The truth was that many of his classmates didn't seem to be particularly sociable or interested in making new friends. However, Harry suspected the main reason the other children avoided him was the fear they felt for the Trio, who wouldn't have liked anyoned to treat Harry too friendly. That wasn't exactly a cheering thought.

Harry chose a corner of the playground, from which he would be able to see anybody that came on his way, and took out his sandwich. He began eating quickly, and it was lucky he did so, because when he had not yet finished it he saw Alan Greenburg coming closer. Harry stood up at once, and glanced around to find a possible escape. However, this time the Trio had showed they were capable of strategizing: as Alan strode towards him from the center, Curly walked towards him from the left and Marko, from the right. _Uh-oh..._

'So, Potter, what're you eating?' Alan asked conversationally. Harry eyed him, and then eyed Curly and Marko, who were trying to look somewhat friendly, but all they managed to transmit was maliciousness. Harry suddenly remembered that the Trio never bothered to bring anything from home, as it was much easier for them to snatch food from the other kids. Marty Blummer, a fatty boy who wouldn't be fat for long thanks to the Trio, was one of their predilect victims. It seemed that Marty hadn't brought enough sandwichs to school that day.

''Cause you know, we're kind of hungry. We forgot to bring a snack today.'

For a moment, Harry pondered the situation. He had two options. The first one was to put an easy and painless end to it by giving them what was left of the sandwich. The other one was... well, a little more rebellious. It only took him an instant to make his choice.

He put into his mouth what was left of the sandwich and made quite of an effort to swallow it. When he did, he gave Alan a forced smile.

'It was tuna. But I'm afraid you'll have to find somebody else now to steal their food.'

Alan's eyes glinted with anger. 'You think yourself smart, Potter. But there's three of us and guess what?'

'Mrs. Koenig isn't watching,' Curly stated, his eyes glinting malevously, 'neither are the other teachers. And you know what, Potter?' He grinned; a twisted, cruel grin. 'None of the other kids' gonna help you, 'cause none of them wants you here.'

Marko chuckled. Harry knew for a fact that the boy wasn't an idiot, but appearances were clearly deceiving. Especially as he practically never opened his mouth at all.

Harry could have pointed this out, or he could have replied to Curly's comment by saying that the reason the other kids wouldn't intervene was because Curly was thrice their size, but instead he chose to hold his breath.

'What's the matter, Potter? Cat ate your tongue?'

'He's a chicken.' Alan imitated a chicken rather succesfully. Actually, he was very good at imitating creatures and people. If he hadn't been such a moron, he could have even been funny.

But Harry wasn't thinking about Alan's acting skills right now. Actually, all he was looking for was a moment of distraction... and when Curly and Marko bent and held their ribs as they laughed at Alan's act, Harry's moment arrived.

He ducked and, before any of them could react, pushed Marko out of the way with his shoulder and began to run like hell. Their laughter stopped at once.

'Son of a b...!'

He could hear them running right behind him, but Harry didn't stop to glance over his shoulder. Instead, he raced towards the entrance doors, but they were too far...

'You aren't going to get out of this one alive, Potter!'

A tin can flew past his head, and it was a miracle it didn't hit him. He didn't stop, though, and kept running. His heart throbbed in his chest and he could feel blood pounding on his temple, apart from a sharp pain on his side, but he kept running. God, if he could only get away from them...

The next thing that Harry remembered from that day was hearing Mrs. Koenig's utterly infuriated voice:

'What on earth do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?'

Her voice sounded faint, as if it came from quite a distance. When Harry turned to see the source of the voice, he realised that Mrs. Koenig looked much shorter than Harry used to see her. In fact, her head was tilted upwards, and she was staring right into Harry's eyes. But why did he see her so small? And why did the ground look like it was so far away?

It was then when Harry realised he was no longer at the playground running away from the Trio. It was then when he realised he was on the school's roof.

Uh-oh.

* * *

Connor knew that Janus Rutherford wasn't going to let it go that easily. Since the day he'd practically accussed him of being a pure-blood racist, Janus hadn't confronted Connor directly, but that didn't mean the tension between them had eased one little bit. Actually, it seemed to have only increased since that day.

It didn't help that Janus' idly comments about Connor being a spoiled brat weren't received with the same acceptance, since everyone had checked and double-checked the hideous way Snape treated Connor, and that none of the other teachers showed him any favouritism. In fact, some of his peers had started to feel a bit of sympathy for Connor, sympathy the boy didn't welcome at all but that nonetheless existed. Janus' comments about Connor fraternizing with Slytherins sounded a little more believable, but as Connor started to get on better with his fellow Gryffindors, he stopped spending so much time with Slytherins, so Janus was proved wrong once more. And of course, Connor getting along with his dormates was something that also annoyed Janus to no end.

Connor, on the other hand, felt less and less patience with the boy. Although he wasn't looking forward to getting into trouble, Connor felt ready to get back at Janus at the first opportunity he got.

The opportunity took its time to show up, though. It wasn't so easy getting into a fight at Hogwarts, especially when the always watchful Professor McGonagall was the Head of your House. She had an inherent talent to sense trouble and the art to put an end to it before it even started. Besides, both Connor and Janus were still shy first-years, they weren't daring enough to pick up a fight under a teacher's nose.

As a result of this, the days following their argument at the Entrance Hall were followed by snide remarks, sarcastic comments, glares and arguments that nearly turned into fights. Both Connor and Janus seemed to accumulate mutual despise, until it reached unsuspected levels. And, of course, one day it just exploded.

They had all been in the dormitory, getting ready for dinner. Usually it was strange that both Connor and Janus spent time in the same room at the same time, but that night Matthew had to pick up a book and Connor had accompanied him. After all, Connor reasoned, it was his dormitory as well. _Janus doesn't own it, so he'd better sod off._

Later on Connor wouldn't be able to recall what had exactly started the fight, but probably there hadn't been a good reason anyway. They were both eager to pick up a fight, and any excuse would have done.

In this case, it probably had something to do with the fact that Janus smashed a glass when Matthew and Connor came in, and that the latter couldn't hide his laughter in time. This might have led Janus to make an acid comment about Connor's most recent disaster during their last Transfiguration class, and as this was a sensitive nerve for Connor, it might have been the reason he began to tease the other boy about his clumsiness at Potions. And then, ladies and gentlemen, war began.

'It's not my fault that damned potion turned out all wrong, if your dear Snape is such a lousy teacher who never stops harassing me!' Janus exclaimed. Connor's eyes narrowed.

'In case you haven't noticed, Professor Snape gives me a hard time too, and I daresay he treats me worse – but I, unlike other dunderheads, am able to read the instructions on the blackboard and not make a mess of it!'

Janus' cheeks flushed with red. 'Who are you calling a dunderhead?'

Connor looked around casually. 'Well, I don't know what you think, but it seems to me you're the only dunderhead here. What do _you_ say?'

The other boys held their breaths, thunderstuck. Janus' hands were trembling from fury, and he seemed to be about to choke.

'I'm not a dunderhead,' he managed to spit out at last. 'Snape's a git, he always marks down Gryffindors. My cousin once told me that he gave him a D just because...'

Connor, although inflamed by the insult to Severus, spoke in a cool voice:

'If he got a D, then your cousin was more of a dunderhead than you are.'

Benny Dunstar let out a shocked gasp, Geoffrey's eyes widened and Humphrey and Ferris exchanged uneasy glances. Matthew, on the other hand, only looked pensive.

Connor ignored them all, and focused his attention on Janus instead. He'd gone pale, and his hands had clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles had gone white too.

Janus launched himself forward, his right fist aimed at Connor's chin, who had already seen that coming. He jumped aside and caught Janus' fist with his. Connor pulled Janus forward as he aimed his fist to the boy's stomach.

Janus gasped when the pain overcame him, but he recovered soon enough to kick Connor on his knees, making him to fall. From that moment on, things got very dizzy for Connor, and he wasn't completely aware where he was punching Janus anymore, or where _he_ was being punched. It was all a mess of kicking, elbowing, punching and hitting, and none of them seemed to feel the pain or to be able to stop. Connor just wanted to smash Janus' smug face, and it seemed that the othe boy had the same idea for Connor's.

'Boys, please calm down...'

'C'mon, you're gonna kill each other!'

'If McGonagall finds out...'

'STOP IT NOW!'

The last voice was Matthew's, who shouted at the top of his lungs as he grabbed Connor's shoulders and pulled him back. He needed Geoffrey's help to do so, as Humphrey and Ferris did the same with Janus.

'Dunstar, don't stay there staring like an idiot and lend us a hand!' Humphrey exclaimed. Benny, who had been watching the scene with a stunned expression on his face, flinched and finally reacted, going to help Ferris and Humphrey to hold Janus.

For a moment, it seemed like Connor and Janus would have liked to resume their fight, but as adrenaline worn out they became aware of how tired they were, and how much their muscles ached in all sort of places.

'McGonagall's going to take a zillion points from us when she sees you two like this,' Geoffrey complained, and the rest seemed to silently agree. Connor's stomach did a flip. He certainly hadn't thought about that. He hadn't thought at all, actually. Now that he did, though, he became aware of all the consequences. What if McGonagall didn't just take points from them? What if she gave them detention? What if, Merlin forbid it, she decided to talk to Severus and Janus' dad? What if... Was fighting a possible cause for expulsion? He felt revolted at the idea.

From what he could judge from Janus' face, the boy was having the same frightening thoughts. Suddenly, Connor had a brilliant idea.

'No one's going to see us like this.'

Ferris snorted.

'What are you planning to do, Connor? Starve here until the marks are gone?'

Connor was too tired to argue back. 'No. I know a potion that can erase all marks within minutes.'

'Oh, c'mon, Angel, stop showing off...'

'Janus, shut up for five bloody seconds, will you?' Matthew snapped. Janus looked surprised at the usually quiet boy's angry response and didn't dare to make a remark. Matthew turned to face Connor.

'You're gonna need some ingredients from the Student's Cupboard, right?' At Connor's nod, he added 'Give me the list and Geoffrey and I will go to pick them.'

'Hey, why me...?'

Matthew glared, and they all found out that his glares could send shivers down your spine. Geoffrey didn't dare to finish the question.

Connor went to his trunk, and revolved until he found a dusty book Severus had given him a couple of years ago, filled of simple potions. He flipped through the pages until he found what he needed, and gave the list of the ingredients to Matthew, who grabbed Geoffrey's arm and disappeared.

'Do you need help with it, Connor?' Humphrey asked. Connor shook his head.

'Nope, it's rather simple. You can go and have dinner, we'll join you later.'

'What, so Janus' going to stay alone with you?' Benny asked, puzzled. They all loked at Janus, who merely shrugged.

'It's not like I can go down like this with all the Prefects watching, can I?'

Benny let out an 'oh', and after a last dubious look at the two of them, the three boys left through the door and disappeared down the staircase.

Matthew and Geoffrey, however, decided to stay with them as Connor made the potion and lend him a hand. They prepared the ingredients that Connor needed, whereas Janus read the intructions out loud.

As they watched the confidence that Connor showed while making a potion, Geoffrey commented:

'You must really like this stuff.'

'Oh, yeah,' Connor said absently. 'I've always liked to learn these things, and to see all the stuff you can manage with different potions, so Severus – I mean, Professor Snape – taught me...'

'Oh, it sounds so great. I wish I had been taught this sort of things as a child,' Matthew commented, and Janus and Geoffrey stared at him. Connor couldn't decide if their susprise was out of the dislike both of them felt for Potions, or out of the way Matthew had said "as a child" as if he were forty or something.

Matthew noticed the staring and protested:

'Hey, I spent all my childhood studying boring Maths, Grammar, and a lot of useless things!'

Connor chuckled. 'Don't think magical primary schools are that different.'

Matthew looked surprised. 'There are magical primary schools?'

'Oh, only a few,' Geoffrey explained, and they both told Matthew about their days at Mr. Banerji's school. Janus decided to intervene in the conversation:

'We shared a tutor with some other wizarding families that lived nearby...'

And so they began to talk, if not amiably, at least civilly until the potion was finished, used and it was time to check whether Benny, Ferris and Humphrey had managed to finish with all the food.

* * *

'You've got to be kidding me.'

Little Mr. Bonham seemed to shrink at Sirius' glare. Mrs. Koenig, on the other hand, pulled herself to her full height, which made her look even more terrifying.

'Mr. Black, believe me that this matter is no joke and that in no way are we kidding -' From her tone, it was easily deduced that she never kidded, neither had she told a joke in her whole life, '- your godson was found on the kitchen's roof. He's obviously been climbing school buildings which, as I assume you should know, is against the rules.'

'Yes, of course it's against the rules. And what does the rules book say about three students bullying another one who is single-handed? So what Harry's done is wrong – I understood that part. Would you have preferred him to punch them back?' snarled Sirius. Mrs. Koenig looked unabashed.

'No. He should have gone looking for an adult – '

'Which he would have done, had they let him!'

'Please, Mr. Black, Mrs. Koenig, keep your voices down,' Mr. Bonham said softly and somewhat shakily. Both Sirius and Koenig turned to stare at him, but after all he was still the school's headmaster so they fell silent. 'I am sure we will be able to find a solution for this matter,' he went on, more firmly. 'And no, Mrs. Koenig, I do not find necessary to expel Harry, neither do I think it's wise to do the same with Alan, Francis and Mark. Of course,' he hastened to add at Sirius' freezing glare, 'they will be punished, and from now on we will be watchful so their misbehaviour does not repeat.'

Neither Sirius nor Mrs. Koenig were fully satisfied by Mr. Bonham's words, but his voice had an unusual firm note, and he hurried to dismiss them before a rebellion took place in his small office.

Once outside, Sirius saw Harry glumly sitting on a bench, staring at his shoelaces. As he took a step towards him, though, Harry looked up, a mixture of anxiety, guilt and fear obscuring his face. Sirius hurried to ease his troubled mind.

'You aren't getting expelled.' Harry let out all the air of his lungs in a sigh, and the relief was almost palpable on his face. 'And Mr. Bonham has promised he's going to do something about that little gang of gits, the Trio of Idiots or whatever their name is.' Harry looked surprised by this and then frowned. Sirius got the distinct impression the boy didn't have much confidence in Mr. Bonham's ability to solve the problem. Well, neither had he, but it was unnatural to see someone so young being so cynical. _He's not cynical,_ a voice inside him protested. _He's just... well... tired. _

_Sure._

It was not until they were back in the car and they had gotten a couple of blocks away from the school that Sirius asked the question that had been bugging him since Mr. Bonham had first called.

'Why didn't you tell me that you were being bullied?'

In his head, Sirius would have sworn it hadn't sounded that brutally blunt. _Sirius Black's amazing tact strikes again_, he thought bitterly.

Harry did not answer at once. Instead, he stared out the window dully. Sirius opened his mouth, closed it and had to bit his lower lip to keep himself quiet. After a few moments, Sirius heard a faint whisper:

''Cause I didn't want to worry you, when you had problems at work and all...'

Sirius turned his head so fast that Harry winced.

'Harry, it's my job to worry over you, and it comes before anything else! If you've got a problem, you have to tell me at once. How I'm supposed to help you sort it out if you don't? I thought we'd already talked about it.'

And they had. However, Harry still seemed to have trouble to confide completely in Sirius. Harry had certainly inherited from his parents their indepence and sense of self-suffiency so he liked to sort things out by himself. Sirius, though, suspected that his first years at his uncle's and aunt's place had scarred the boy enough so he wouldn't trust any adults easily.

Harry was gloomily looking at his knees.

'I didn't reckon you'd think it was such a big deal...'

Sirius took a deep breath. _Patience, boy, patience._

'Harry,' he said softly, 'anything that troubles you is a bid deal for me, okay? You can tell me anything, you know that, don't you?'

Harry nodded faintly, and Sirius decided not to push it. They were nearly at home when Harry spoke again, startling him.

'You believe me, right? When I say I didn't climb that wall... Mrs. Koenig says I'm a liar, but I never tried to get to the roof, I just appeared there...'

Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead as he did not dare to look the boy in the eye.

'Of course I believe you, Harry. I know you are no liar.'

_Unlike me,_ he thought as his insides squirmed, but Harry merely relaxed and smiled at him, always unsuspecting. And that made Sirius' insides to squirm a little more.

* * *

Connor thought that he'd had enough fight for a fortnight, after what had happened with Janus Rutherford, but he'd been wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

'Look, first-years midgets!'

Gryffindor first-years were walking through the Entrance Hall in order to reach their tower when they heard the rude calling.

At first, Connor didn't know who had talked, as Geoffrey, Ferris, Janus and Humphrey, who were walking ahead him, blocked the speaker from sight. However, he did hear perfectly Janus' reply.

'Who are you calling midgets?'

Connor heard Ferris and Humphrey gasp and when he could peer over their shoulders, he knew why. In front of them, blocking the path, there were two massive fifth-year boys. Slytherins, to be more precise. And they did not look friendly.

'Did you hear it? One of the midgets dared to talk to me!' the boy who had first talked said. His friend sneered.

'He's a Gryffindor, don't expect much common sense. Now, kiddos, get out of our way. We're in a hurry.'

Benny, who had been chatting with Connor and was standing next to him, stepped forwards and opened his mouth... only to receive a nudge in his ribs. Benny shot a hurt look at Connor, but he knew his friend would soon thank him. After all, these were fifth-years. And they were _huge_.

Humphrey and Ferris must have thought the same way, as they both dragged Janus to one side. Connor nudged Benny again – this time more gently – and they both moved aside with Geoffrey. But no one had counted on Matthew.

Matthew, as it was usual in him, wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. Instead, he was engrossed with a Muggle comic – Spiderman, as it couldn't have been other way. Actually, he was so engrossed that he did not see the two enormous Slytherins – and literally walked into them.

'Ouch!'

Matthew bounced against the tallest boy – the one who had called them midgets – and fell to the floor on his butt. The Slytherin looked furious.

'Are you an idiot? Can't you look where you're walking to, jerk?'

Meanwhile, his friend had bent, not to help Matthew, but to pick up the comic he'd dropped. He examined it and his sneer became more pronounced.

'Well, Illyous, you certainly can't expect much from this one. He's a filthy Mudblood.'

It was amazing the effect these simple words caused: at once, all Gryffindors jumped and moved forwards, elbow against elbow so they formed a solid wall, and glared at the boy who'd insulted Matthew.

'Don't call him a Mudblood!'

The boy sneered at Benny and Ferris, who'd both shouted at the same time. 'What are you, Muggle-lovers?'

Matthew, who'd pulled himself to his feet with a puzzled look on his face, asked:

'What's a Mudblood?'

Illyous grimaced and walked away from Matthew as if he had a contagious disease. Matthew's confusion increased, and Connor's blood boiled.

'Mudblood is a disgusting, stupid term narrow-minded people use to call Muggle-borns. You know, those that claim they came from endogamic families where everybodys sleeps with their sister or cousin as they have no other choice left.'

Everyone turned to face Connor, his fellow classmates with a horrified but also somewhat awed look on their faces, whereas the two Slytherins looked absolutely furious. Matthew, on the other hand, finally seemed to understand what was going on.

'You, little filthy midget, you're going to pay...'

'If you try to hurt Connor, you'll have to fight with all of us,' Geoffrey, who was a whiner but not a coward, calmly stated, 'and I think it won't look too good on your file that you fought with a bunch of first-years.'

'That's right!' Matthew, who'd finally succeded at snatching his comic back, exclaimed. 'Connor's not alone.'

To Connor's surprise, all his classmates were looking resolved and not even Janus protested at Matthew's statement. The Slytherin boys exchanged amused glances, though, and drew their wands from their pockets. _Oh, damn..._

'So, what are you going to do now?' Illyous inquired smugly. 'I doubt any of you can produce a few sparks, not to say a hex. But let's give it a try, shall we?'

Connor threw caution to the winds, ducked and launched himself forwards, hitting Illyous' knees and making him to fall. Once they recovered from the first shock, his classmates hastened to follow his example and soon both boys were on the floor, wandless.

'What on earth is going on here?'

Everyone froze. Dreading what he was bound to see, Connor rose his head... and groaned at the sight of a furious (and rather astounded) Severus Snape.

Illyous, trying to rise to his feet with dignity, rather unsuccesfully as Connor made him to trip, answered:

'These mid – first-years attacked us and took our wands away.'

Severus stared at the boy, as though he could not believe his stupidity.

'You let a bunch of first-years to take away your wand?'

The boy shifted uncomfortably. 'They crashed against our knees and made us fall, sir.'

Severus kept staring at the boy, and then his incredulous look was replaced with an unfathomable expression.

'Ten points from Gryffindor.'

'But they insulted...'

'Rutherford, shut up before I take twenty points instead of ten. And you two,' he added, looking at Illyous and his friend, 'come to my office. I would like a word with you two about your stupidity.'

He turned around and left, his black robes drifting behind him. Illyous, before leaving with his friend, shot a murderous glare at Connor.

'You're going to pay, Muggle-lover midget.'

As soon as they were out of sight, Humphrey said.

'Go, go team!'

And even though Geoffrey was complaining over a scratch on his arm, they all laughed at Humphrey's singsong voice.

As for Illyous' so announced vengeance, it never took place. According to what Alden Higgs told Connor the following Potions lesson, another fifth-year had conversationally commented to Illyous and his friend that the Muggle-lover midget, whom they had both insulted and threatened, happened to be Snape's surrogate son.

* * *

**Sparky:** Well, I'm afraid that I can't answer all your questions as they would pretty much give all the plot away. However, you can be certain that from now on things will be easier for Connor at Gryffindor House as he's already showed he deserves to be there. And, in Chapter Twenty-Two, there might be an encounter you've all been waiting for...

**Jesse:** I'm so sorry for the awfully long time it took me to update, I hope it won't happen again. As for the bullies, I'd like to kick them myself. Such disgusting, despicable creatures. And let's face it: Snape _is_ quite a jerkface. He just can't help it.

**pottersparky:** Welcome to the club! Thanks for the review. About the e-mail problem, check the notes at the bottom. Till next chapter!

**Luna Moonlight Fawn**: Thanks you so much! You're going to make me blush with your complimments. It was sad for me too to see the boys suffering (as I can painfully relate to theirfeelings) but if bad stuff didn't happen we'd haveno story. And Rowling is meaner than me. Anyway, I'mrelieved you think Snape's chat with Connor made up for all the suffering I put him through, it makes me feel less guilty...

**sk8ter92**: Welcome to you too, and thanks for your review. You had to wait no more: the chapter's here. Hopefully next update will be sooner, as I have already written up to Chapter Twenty-Three.

**Author's Notes 2:** Some people have pointed out they had trouble to see my e-mail. I thought of displaying it here but ffnet will not let me (besides, I've developed a spam-phobia) so to communicate with me you can tell me which your e-mail address is and I'll write to you. See you, and good luck for you all.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Lunatic and The Letter**

Once or twice a year, Mr. Bonham decided that his young students needed a break from their lessons (or perhaps it was _him_ who needed a break from the students), but of course he couldn't give them a day off. Instead, he organised a highly educational excursion, and sent his pupils in small groups closely watched by Mrs. Konnerig, to a museum or some other equally serious-looking place.

That year, however, the students jumped in their seats with joy, because the place selected turned out to be the zoo, which was a major improvement from every point of view.

The chosen day, after a grave lecture from Mrs. Konnerig about the right way to behave in a public place (and a long list of hideous threats for those who broke the rules), the children jumped out of the school bus and broke into a frenetic run towards the entrance gates. Mrs. Konnerig followed them, cracking her knuckles.

Harry realised that, as Mrs. Konnerig's attention was divided in twenty potential wrongdoers, he would have a hard time to stay out of the Trio's reach, who were as annoying as always. Somehow, though, he managed to avoid them for the major part of that morning, until he walked into the reptile house. There he saw them poking a glass, behind which the largest serpent he'd even seen was sleeping.

Alan Greenburg was clearly annoyed and he started to punch the glass. The snake didn't even flinch and Harry felt admired at her cool indifference.

'This' stupid,' Alan snarled. 'Let's get out of here.'

As they walked away Harry hid behind a column until they were gone. Then, he tiptoed towards the glass and watched the huge sleeping snake.

And then the most incredible, extraordinary and strangest thing happened...

-

Harry, who was reflecting in what had come to pass that morning, was unusually quiet once he returned home. Sirius must have noticed something odd was going on, as he inquired:

'Harry, what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' lied Harry. Perhaps he replied a little too quickly, or perhaps his answer sounded a little too unconvincing, because Sirius didn't look reassured and kept insisting. Finally Harry decided to tell him the startling events of that morning, even though he wasn't certain Sirius would believe him.

When he finished his tale, Sirius' face was an unreadable mask.

'So you just had a chat with a boa constrictor who told you he'd never seen Brazil?'

Harry, who hadn't realised how improbable that sounded until Sirius had voiced it, nodded with uncertainty.

'Hmm, yeah.'

'And then when Alan Greenburg came back to pick on you, the glass just vanished and the snake escaped?'

Harry nodded again. There had been a lot of mayhem, especially as Alan kept screaming like a small child and not even Mrs. Konnerig's threats managed to make him shut up.

'OK,' Sirius simply said. Harry stared at him.

'You believe me? You won't say it's something I imagined, or that I made up?'

Sirius looked surprised. 'Of course not, Harry. When haven't I believed you anything you told me?' Sirius smiled and patted Harry's shoulder. 'Don't worry over this, Harry. Sometimes, strange things happen.'

What Sirius didn't say, but Harry thought, was that strange things always seemed to be taking place around _him_. In spite of his words, Harry could not help thinking that a look of worry had sombered Sirius' face for a fleeting second...

...but he'd probably imagined it. If there was any reason to worry, Sirius wouldn't keep it from him.

* * *

It was a known fact that Connor Angel and Janus Rutherford would never be able to get along, but after their major fight at their dorm things calmed down considerably. They still couldn't stand each other, but they had learnt to avoid trouble so their fellow first-years were able to breath freely again.

Things got easier for Connor, too. After the confrontation with the two fifth-year Slytherins, no one could deny Connor was a true Gryffindor. From that moment on he no longer heard comments about how he was Snape's little brat or he was fraternizing with the enemy.

Connor began to feel so much at ease at Hogwarts that time seemed to go by in a blur, and before he knew it Christmas had come.

There were a few who would stay at the castle and enjoy Hagrid's dozen decorated trees, but Connor wasn't among them. His mother was capable of going all the way to Hogwarts just to pick him up, and that would be just too embarassing to bear.

However, he wouldn't go to London straight away. Matthew Brennan had invited him to his house in Bristol for a week, and both Darla and Severus had given their permission, so that was where Connor headed first.

Matthew lived in a nice, typically middle-class house not far from the port. His parents were both accountants and he had a brother who was three years younger and, from what Connor could judge, very Muggle. It was very doubtful he'd get a Hogwarts letter when he turned eleven. The boy seemed to have sensed this, as he showed a clear dislike for all Matthew's magical stuff that could only be interpreted as a burning jealously.

Mr. and Mrs. Brennan weren't that thrilled about his elder son being a wizard, either. They didn't say so, but Connor took no time to realise they thought it was all nonsense, and that they still hoped Matthew would drop Hogwarts and choose a more respectable and reasonable school. Both of them were very different from Matthew: in Connor's eyes, they were stuck-up, cold, unnaturally courteous and rather uncreative. If it hadn't been for the physical similarities, Connor would have thought his friend was adopted, as he didn't share with his parents and little brother one single interest or personal trait.

In spite of this, Connor had a rather good time with Matthew. They visited the port, examined the city museum, which was full of curious stuff, enjoyed the amazing view from the Clifton Bridge, and walked around Bristol's streets, which for some reason were all uphill. Besides, Matthew lent him all his comics and video games, and he showed Connor his inventions. It transpired that Matthew loved constructing strange machines and devices, and now he was pondering whether it would be a good idea to implement magic in his new inventions. Inwardly, Connor thought that very agitated days expected Matthew's dormates, but said nothing.

With all, Connor was glad to return to his mother's house. Next holidays, he'd invite Matthew, so he could get a little away from his cold family, who never seemed to notice when he was around. That certainly wouldn't happen at his mum's.

Mum and Spike were thrilled to have him, and Connor feared that she would break his ribs with her fierce hug. They made him tell them everything about his time at Hogwarts, and also show them his books and magical stuff. Connor also noticed his mother was truly glad to see him when she gave him a little more freedom than before. However, Connor doubted he'll ever reach the level of freedom Matthew had at his home, where he could leave wherever he felt like it and never tell his mother where he was going to be or when he was going to return. And now he came to think of it, Connor wasn't sure he wanted that kind of freedom right now.

On Christmas' Eve, his mother threw a party. Spike was there, of course, and to Connor's glee so was Faith, who'd just come from Australia, and by some miraculous way, Darla had managed to convince Severus to have a Muggle Christmas with them. Mr. Giles was also there, although he usually spent Christmas at USA with the Summers' sisters, and some girls and people from the school he worked at, and there also were a couple of coworkers of his mum and friends of Spike. The only one missing, Connor thought with a small hint of sadness, was Lindsey, whom his mother didn't seem to miss much.

Connor soon forgotten about Lindsey, though, as he had a lot of fun wreaking havoc with Faith and inventing bizarre carols with Spike. That night, he even got to see Severus with a ridiculous Father Christmas hat bent to one ear.

He spent the last few days of his holidays with Severus. It was nice to see how much better their relationship was when they were away from the dungeons, and even though Connor knew Severus would resume his cold treatment once they were in Potions class again, he enjoyed his time with his foster dad at the most.

All the good things meet their end, though, and sooner than he would have expected school started again. However, Connor's spirits were lifted as he faced what was left of the year. After all, the worst had already passsed, as he had succesfully survived his first term at Hogwarts...

* * *

'Do you realise that Harry's eleventh birthday is just around the corner, don't you?'

Remus Lupin looked at his friend over his glass, and examined the anxious expression on Sirius' features. He suppressed a sigh. His friend had alwayd had a taste for melodrama... although this time he did have a point. Remus wasn't going to tell him that, though, because that'd be enough to push Sirius over the edge of hysteria... or recklessness.

'Sirius, you still have _months_ until Harry's birthday...'

'Yeah... a couple.'

'...and plenty of time till then,' Remus finished placidly, ignoring the interruption. 'Do not start fretting, please.'

Sirius snorted. 'That's because you don't have to lie to him every day.'

They were in a private chamber of The Leaky Cauldron, which would have usually cheered him up, as it meant this was his annual visit to the Wizarding world. About once or twice a year, he was allowed to go to Diagon Alley, as he had to check the Black Trust was still there and also make the arrangements so somebody took care of Kreacher (argh), but it also meant he had the chance to catch up with Remus or Andromeda. In all, it was usually something Sirius looked forward to, but today he was determined to feel down.

'Honestly, Remus, I can't stand it. I had to make up the most incredible lies about Lily and James so he wouldn't be suspicious, and more and more often he performs magic (I tell you, he'll be a terrific wizard) and I've run out of Muggle explanations. And I hate to lie to him. Have I told you about the Parseltongue incident...?'

'Yes... about half a dozen times already.'

Sirius looked a little sheepish. 'Well, yeah, but it really freaked me out. I'd have never pictured _Harry_, from all people, being a Parselmouth... After all, there was none in James' family, and Lily was Muggle-born...'

Remus took the time to finish what was left of his drink and then calmly put the glass on the table before replying.

'You are right. But Dumbledore's already told you where he thinks this ability of Harry comes from, hasn't he?'

Sirius grimaced. 'Yeah. Excuse me, but I don't particularly like the idea of Harry being connected with him, mind you. And the reputation of Parselmouths...'

'Come on, Sirius, you know they aren't all evil!'

'Yes, I do,' Sirius burst, 'but most people don't! If certain people are already going to feel suspicious of Harry just because he survived an Avada Kedavra, imagine what will happen when they find out he's a Parselmouth. They'll make it a nightmare for him.'

Remus looked sympathetic. 'You know you aren't always going to be able to protect him, don't you?'

His friend sighed. 'I do. And that's why I want to tell him the truth, but Dumbledore won't let me. You know what my worst fear is? Harry's a smart kid, and he's curious, like James. I'm afraid he's going to find out on his own, and in an awful way.'

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder, and firmly said:

'Sirius, there's no point in start worrying for something that hasn't happened yet, and that it's not likely to happen anytime soon. As for Dumbledore, I bet he has a valid reason for not telling Harry. Just... Just hang on a little longer, OK? There's not much time left, and don't worry. Everything's going to be all right.'

But Remus himself didn't sound completely reassured. After all, nothing had been _all right_ since that Halloween night ten years ago, when the world as they knew it had shattered under their feet. However, it was not wise to dwell in those somber thoughts right now.

'Well, I actually had a piece of news that might cheer you up a little. See, I've got a job...'

And as Sirius patted his friend back and congratulated him, for a moment, just a moment, they forgot their worries.

* * *

End of term engulfed first year students before they realised what was going on. One moment, it was Easter Holidays and the terryfing exams were ages away; the next, all their teachers began to give them their exam dates and advice to study. Before they knew it, they were already buried under piles of books and notes, and it was time to start studying until their eyeballs poped out from their heads.

The worst of it all, Connor reflected, was that the weather was getting really good out there, and it would have been great to spend his free time in the ground with his friends... except that they no longer had any free time left, as they dedicated every second and every breath they had to study.

The only light thought they had during that time was the Quidditch final, which was soon squashed away as Gryffindor was defeated in the most embarassing way. The legendary Charlie Weasley, who'd made Gryffindor win so many matches in the past, had quit Quidditch in his seventh year to focus on his NEWT's. The new captain certainly didn't have his touch, and the results were disastrous. Professor McGonagall publicly avoided Severus for a week, as Slytherin had practically stomped on Gryffindor's weak team. Connor still squirmed when he remembered it.

So they had nothing left to think about but the exams, that hung over them like a looming threat. They were all aware that they would not make it to second year if they happened to fail these exams. They were all new to this, so naturally they thought the exams were the most horroful and hideous thing on earth and were scared to death.

However, even the end-of-term exams meet their end, and finally Connor and his fellow classmates were free. Ah, the pleasure to drop the books and enjoy the sun in the grounds freely! Ah, the wonder of not having to worry about the uprising of Elfric the Eager or the proper ingredients for a Forgetfulness Potion!

Connor thought he'd done reasonably well, even in subjects like Herbology, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Sure enough, one week later, when the exam results came, he was surprised to see he'd got much better marks than he'd expected in most subjects, and passing grades in those he'd been conviced that would be his downfall.

And then, the trunks were packed, the Leaving Feast had passed, and first-years found themselves at the entrance gates waiting for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade Station. This time, Connor would not take the train back to London (there was no rule that forced the students to do so), so he was saying goodbye to those friends that didn't live in Hogsmeade. The glee at the propsect of the holidays was evident on every face, and the exaltation everyone felt was contagious. There were only two things that marred Connor's actual cheerfulness.

The first one, and it was odd even to Connor the way things were, Porfessor Nicodemou had lost two of her fingers due to an accident during a class with sixth years and wasn't returning to teach the following year. Connor wasn't upset because he was going to miss her; on the contrary, he felt guilty for all the times he'd wished she just left.

The other reason was he had just had a major argument with Benny Dunstar. Benny and him were always arguing because they both had a fiery temper, but Connor particularly felt this one because they would depart angry, and over the silliest motive ever. Benny had got mad at Connor because he'd turned down his offer of spending the first week at his home. But what could Connor have done, if Severus had already told him they were spending that week in the Highlands with the Notts? Honestly, Benny was just being a prat, but it bothered Connor all the same.

On the whole, though, Connor was certain this was going to be an extraordinary summer, a summer to remember... and right he was, although not for the reasons he would have imagined.

* * *

It was the day prior Harry's eleventh birthday, and he and Sirius were at the supermarket that was within few blocks from their place. That morning, Sirius had announced that they had to buy the necessary victuals for Harry's birthday, although the boy himself knew there would be no party. Well, not a real one, anyway, as Harry had made no new friends in the neighbourhood, so it would be just him and Sirius. Sirius, though, would listen to none of that, so Harry found himself escorting his godfather in his quest to get chocolates, crisps, cokes and other equally vital stuff.

Harry still did not see the point for this, but he didn't dare to comment on it. Lately, Sirius had been acting in a very strange manner. He seemed kind of... restless. Harry felt there was something troubling his godfather's mind, although he couldn't put his finger on what the matter was. His godfather was intercalating periods of hiperactivity with periods of dull stillness, and he looked worried over something. Very strange, indeed. Which, to almost-eleven-year-old Harry Potter, seemed to be the norm and not the exception, now he came to think of it.

Harry walked a few meters away from his godfather to check out a colourful advert that pictured a new brand of lollipops. Suddenly, he felt a squeeze on his forearm. He spun round and nearly knock over an elderly woman who was staring at him through narrowed eyes.

Harry blinked. The woman was wearing a worn-out acid green dress, over which she'd put on a shabby-looking bathrobe with a design of huge blue flowers. Her messy greyish hair, on the other hand, was pulled up by a plastic tiara. It took Harry a moment to get over his shock and remember his manners.

'Um... Can I do anything for you, ma'am?'

The woman stared at him a little longer, making him very uncomfotable. Then she seemed to register what he'd just said and gave him a two-toothless smile, which for some reason was creepier than her staring.

'Oh, yes, yes you can. Would you... would you mind helping me carry this bag to the cashier? My wrist's hurting with this humid weather...'

Harry hesitated a moment. The cash desk was only a few meters away, but this old lady made him feel uneasy for some reason. He cast a quick glance at Sirius, whose back was turned on him as he talked to a shop assistant. Harry turned and saw the old woman's hopeful face.

'It'll only take a minute...'

'Well – all right. Let me carry it for you.'

The woman grinned, but it looked more like a demented grimace, and her eyes shone with a maniacal gleam. Startled, Harry tried to get away from her, but he felt a tight grip on his forearm and saw her hand had closed around it like a claw.

Grinning more madly than ever, she pulled out a wooden stick from her pocket...

... and when he heard the familiar _crack_, Sirius knew at once what had happened, but as he spun round and saw the desert corridor, he realised it was already too late.

-

Harry looked at his surroundings. He was in some kind of underground room, probably a basement, with cold stone walls and earthy floors. Harry shifted in his seat, but he couldn't move an inch.

He remembered feeling like he couldn't breath, like his eyeballs and eardrums were being pushed inside his skull as everything around him faded into darkness, and then the awful sensation disappearing as fast as it had started, and he'd found himself in the basement. Or whatever that room was. He'd only had enough time to acknowledge that he was no longer at the supermarket, that the old lady had pushed him with unbelievable force into a metallic chair. Before he could react, she'd pointed the wooden stick to his chest. Ropes had appeared out of nowehere and twisted around his body like living serpents.

Now she was pacing in front of him, toying with the stick. It sort of reminded Harry of Mickey Mouse's magical wand in _Fantasy_, if such a thing existed.

_Well, if a snake can tell me that she's never seen Brazil..._

'Er, ma'am,' Harry said tentatively, 'my godfather must be calling the police right now, why don't you...?'

'Shut up,' she snapped, turning to face him with eyes burning from anger. 'Don't you dare to talk to me!'

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. His heart began pounding in his chest. He didn't understand what was going on, but this was really bad, and if Sirius couldn't find him soon...

'I've never liked children,' she commented, almost casually. 'My husband wanted some, but I refused, and it was lucky I did, wasn't it? Imagine what it would've been like if I had had to raise them on my own. What a nightmare.'

She resumed her pacing. 'They took him away from me, you know. They made up some ridiculous charges and thrust him into Azkaban. It was completely unfair, he didn't even get a proper trial...' She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. 'That bloody Crouch... He thought himself to be above all of us, but didn't his little brat turn into a nasty little thing? Got what he deserved, I tell you...'

Her pacing came to a halt and she turned to face Harry. The boy was shocked to see a bright grin spreading over her ugly face, as her eyes looked at him almost fondly.

'But now you're here things'll be different, won't they? If I ask them to realease my husband, they can't refuse, can they? Oh, no, they'll be too afraid of might I might do to you to do so... Now they'll have no choice but listen to me, you'll see...'

Definitely, he was dealing with a lunatic. Harry hadn't a clue of what she was talking about. How could he be related with whatever had happened to her husband? And who on earth were _they_?

Just as the lunatic woman was saying, 'They're never going to find you here,' a crash was heard. Suddenly, the basement was bathed in blinding light and the woman shrieked:

'YOU!'

Harry blinked and tried to adjust his sight, but all he could see was a huge form standing in front of them, which blocked most of the light that entered through the now open trap-door.

'Yeah. Me.' The figure moved forward, and Harry's eyes registered him as a man... the most enormous man he'd ever seen. His hands were like huge sauce pans, and he was at least twice as tall as a normal man, whereas his face was covered by tangles of bushy dark hair. In his right hand, he was clutching – Harry had to look twice to trust his eyes – a pink umbrella, which he was pointing at the woman's chest. She sniggered.

'You think I'm afraid of you, you big, useless oaf...'

Harry thought she should have been afraid, even though he was just pointing at her with an umbrella. After all, this man was five times her size. He could probably squash her with his mere fingers.

The woman took out her stick, but the giant was faster. He bellowed something Harry did not understand, and she flew backwards, hitting her head against one of the stone walls. Harry yelped as he saw the woman's body slipping to the floor.

The giant looked surprised at what he'd just done. Slowly, he put down his umbrella and walked towards the old lady's still form. He bent over her and pressed a massive finger against her neck.

'Just knock' out, and tha' probably's gonna hurt tomorrow... but she's alright.' He turned to face Harry, and his face contracted in an angry grimace. Harry shrunk as he pointed the umbrella at him, but all what happened was that the ropes loosened and fell to the ground.

'Umm... thanks,' Harry managed to mumble, as he rubbed his numb limbs. The giant smiled.

''Lo, Harry. Nice ter see yeh. Las' time yeh were a baby.'

'Oh, hmm, nice to see you too, sir,' Harry replied, wondering who on earth this man was. Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, because the man hastened to say:

''Course, yeh don't remember me. Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, but everyone calls me just Hagrid. I'm Hogwarts Keeper of the Keys – tha' reminds me, I brought yer letter...'

Hagrid searched in his many pockets, until he finally retrieved a thick yellowish envelope, which seemed to be made of parchment, and handed it to Harry. The boy saw his name on it and, intrigued, hastened to open it. It said:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore _

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

By the corner of his eye, he could see Hagrid flickering his umbrella and a smoky form coming out from it, but now he was so engrossed in the contents of the letter that he could pay attention to nothing else. When he finished reading, he looked up.

'Er, Mr. Hagrid –'

'Just call me Hagrid, everyone does.'

'Er, well, Hagrid, there must be a mistake.'

Hagrid looked surprised. 'Why so?'

'Well,' Harry said slowly, 'because here says I have a scholarship for a school of magic. Er... is it really a school of magic?'

''Course, it is!' the giant exclaimed. 'Yer a wizard, Harry.'

Harry was speechless for a moment, thunderstruck.

'I'm a _what_?'

Hagrid blinked, confused. 'Yer godfather told you nutting?'

'No, and thanks to Dumbledore, now I have a lot to explain.'

Harry jumped to his feet so fast that he almost knock over the chair, and launched himself forwards, right into his godfather's waiting arms. He heard him let out a relieved sigh as he began stroking Harry's hair.

'You okay, kiddo?'

Harry mumbled a 'yes', as he wrapped his arms around Sirius as tightly as he could. He knew that he'd feel silly in a moment, hugging his godfather like a small child, but right now he didn't care. He'd never been so happy to see Sirius in his entire life.

When he finally was able to let go, Sirius turned to Hagrid:

'Thanks for everything you did. If it hadn't been for you...'

Hagrid waved his hand. 'It was nutting.'

Sirius looked down at Harry.

'Looks like I owe you a long explanation, don't I?'

* * *

**Many thanks to Luna Moonlight Fawn and to sk8ter 92 for their encouraging comments. See you!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Thanks, like always, to Joycelyn!

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Favour**

Summertime. Usually, for a vampire, this word would be synonymous for annoyance. The sun stretched out its hours of reign, shortening considerably the time vampires could run freely. On the other hand, though, more people were wandering in the streets on summer nights, which was always an advantage.

However, Darla's thoughts were far from this. Actually, she was thrilled that summer had arrived at last, as it meant that Connor's school holidays had started and she would see him more often. In fact, this year her son would spend an entire month with her, which was doubly special as she hadn't seen him since Christmas.

Darla was busy getting everything ready for Connor's arrival that would take place within August's first week, after he had spent the first half of his holidays with Severus, when something got her thoughts off this completely. She got a message on July 30th... a message from Albus Dumbledore, in which he asked her to meet him that evening at The Leaky Cauldron.

It's needless to explain how utterly shocked she was at this. The last time she'd spoken to Dumbledore had been when she'd thanked him for convincing Severus she would not harm her son... which had taken place five years ago.

At first, she'd been worried. Had something bad happened to Connor? She'd gotten a letter from her son just the previous day, but perhaps... However, Dumbledore, who'd probably guessed how Darla was going to react, was careful enough to add a PS explaining that it had nothing to do with Connor. Which was even more strange. What could Dumbledore want to talk her about that wasn't related in any way with her child?

Feeling very curious and just a little apprehensive, that very same evening Darla made her way to the now familiar pub. She entered, her head held high, and nobody looked twice at her Muggle clothes. The regular clients were used to seeing her, and probably thought she was some eccentric Muggle-born witch who refused to wear Wizarding robes. Some of them had even started to greet her with a small inclination of their heads, which she answered in the same polite way, although she never stopped to chat or have a drink. Instead, and just like all the other times she'd came in here to use the Floo Network to Snape's, she headed straight to the bar where the landlord, Tom, was wiping some glasses. He looked up when she approached and gave her a toothless smile.

''Evening, Miss. Professor Dumbledore's waiting for you.'

He led the way to a small door which was half-hidden in the wall, opened it and stepped aside. She thanked him and walked inside, bending her head a little as the door closed behind her.

She found herself in a small candle-lit room (honestly, what did these people have against electricity?), with wooden floors and panels on the walls. In the centre there was a small, round table covered with a purple cloth stained with candle burnts. And, behind this table, was Albus Dumbledore.

Darla couldn't help feeling impressed every time she saw him. His long, silvery beard and his outfit always reminded her of the ancient tales about Merlin and the wizards that appeared in fairy tales and Disney movies, in contrast to the more common ones like those one could find at The Leaky Cauldron or Connor himself. However, Darla suspected that the thing that mystified her the most was the immense wisdom gleaming in his clear eyes, which wasn't merely the wisdom of a particularly bright man, but the kind of wisdom obtained by years and years of experience. She was always reminded of an old personage from ancient times – although, now she came to think of it, the man was two hundred and fifty years her junior.

His gaze fell upon her and he smiled warmly.

'Good evening, Darla. I am pleased to see you again.'

Darla bowed her head just a little. 'It's nice to see you too, Professor.'

As she sat on the chair across from him, she wondered for the eleventh time what on earth was going on. Some of her uneasiness must have shown on her features, because Dumbledore said:

'I am certain you must be wondering the reason behind this meeting and we will cover such important matter at its given time. Now, however, there are certain things that need to be clarified first. What would you like to drink?'

Darla blinked, a little taken aback at the change of subject.

'Um... coffee would be alright.'

Dumbledore nodded gravely, as if they were discussing a very serious matter, and withdrew his wand from his pocket. At a flicker of it, a mug of coffee appeared out of thin air to be softly placed in front of Darla, as a steaming cup of tea was put in front of Dumbledore.

_Alright. Clearly, in a place like this electricity is so overrated._

'The reason I have requested for your presence here tonight, Darla,' Dumbledore finally started to explain, once all the feeble attempts for small talk had died away, 'is because I find myself in the necessity of asking you a favour.'

Darla's eyes widened a little, as she stirred her coffee. It was hard to imagine what a powerful sorcerer like Dumbledore could need her for. Unless...

'Does it have something to the with the Slayer's School, sir?'

Dumbledore smiled and promptly shook his head. 'Oh, no, not at all. I have heard from Mr. Giles the wonderful job you're doing in there – but that's clearly beyond my concern, as Slayers are the Watcher's Council's duty and not my own. No, actually what I wanted to ask you was to host a friend of mine in your house.'

'...huh?'

Of all the things she could have expected, this wasn't one of them.

'Would you mind explaining why me, sir?' Darla, who was feeling rather bewildered by now, inquired. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

'Of course, Darla. What happened is that this friend of mine...'

-

Right after her interview with Dumbledore, Darla decided to pay Severus a visit. Hopefully the wizard would be able to answer some of the dozen questions that were exploding in her mind.

When she stepped into his living room, brushing off the ashes, he didn't wince, used as he was to her by now. However, he did flinch when she casually asked:

'Severus, what do you now about a wizard called Sidious Black?'

Was it her imagination or had Severus just become several shades paler?

'I guess you're referring to Sirius Black.'

'Oh,' said Darla, 'yeah, I guess that's the right name. Well? What do you know about him?'

Severus' face was a blank mask when he asked why she fathomed that piece of information. When she explained it to him, though, he looked as if he had been hit with a sauce pan on the face.

'You _what_!'

* * *

Tom, the famous toothless landlord of The Leaky Cauldron, reflected in the strange nature of things. His job wasn't exactly boring – after all, there was a lot of people moving around and eventful things were bound to take place. However, after a while even that could get a little ordinary – but this time, his comfortable routine had been broken twice in only fourteen hours. 

The previous day, Albus Dumbledore himself had asked him to prepare him a private chamber where he could have a meeting. This wasn't so odd for Tom, as Hogwarts' Headmaster had asked him to do so a few times in the past, so at first his curiosity wasn't particularly piqued. However, it was awoken when he saw who was going to meet Dumbledore.

For quite some years now, a strange visitor kept coming to his inn to use the Floo Network. It wasn't that she looked weird or anything – actually, she was rather pretty, with her golden hair and her fair skin. But she did act oddly. First of all, she always wore Muggle clothes. That wasn't so uncommon, as The Leaky Cauldron functioned as a portal between the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds, but it was odd that she never stopped to have a drink, have a chat with somebody or, even weirder, go to Diagon Alley. Instead she walked straight to the bar, greeted him and politely asked whether she could use the chimney. She barely changed a word or a gesture in nearly six years.

When she came in last evening, a good amount of talking surfaced among the usual crowd, who were all too accustomed to her going straight for the chimney. Instead, when he escorted her to a half-hidden door in the wall, everyone started whispering among themselves and once he'd resurfaced they began to question him about the mysterious woman. He had smiled and kept his face unreadable: Dumbledore had asked him to be discreet about the whole matter... although Tom doubted he would have been able to answer any of their questions, as he didn't know much more than his clients did.

At the end of his meeting, and once the woman had vanished again in Muggle London, Dumbledore had asked him to arrange that very same chamber, but for the following morning. Intrigued but knowing it would be useless to question the old wizard, he'd agreed at once. Just when he'd thought he'd got his good amount of weirdness for a week, he saw who would meet Dumbledore this time: it was none other than Sirius Black himself.

Tom had been one of the many who'd been shocked to hear Black had gone to the Dark side, as he'd known him well and believed there wasn't a less likely candidate to join You-Know-Who's ranks, and who'd been even more shocked to hear about his innocence. Like the rest of the Wizarding world, his shock had increased when Black, instead of enjoying his freedom and resuming his old life, had practically vanished to live like an hermit, possibly hidden in the Muggle world. It was impossible to understand that someone with Black's fine background (although lately the Black lineage had been stained by some of its mislead members like the infamous Bellatrix), his Galleons and his recently acquired fame would wish to shut himself out of his home world.

The rumour was that the Potter child was living with him, as he'd been James Potter's very best friend. Tom didn't know whether to give the rumour credit or not, all he knew was that Black, once or twice a year, showed up at The Leaky Cauldron, had a few drinks with Mr. Lupin or Mrs. Tonks, paid a visit to Diagon Alley and left as fast as he could. Little was left from the cheerful and outgoing bloke Tom had once met. The new Black was reserved and taciturn, barely talking to anyone, not even those he'd known for years, and his eyes had become a couple of shades darker, as if Azkaban's ghosts hadn't stopped haunting him. To tell the truth, this new version of Sirius Black gave old Tom the creeps.

Today was no different. Sure, Black had been very polite when he'd greeted him, but there was something strained in his smile, something icy in his eyes that prevented Tom from being too talkative. Old Doris Crockford wasn't that wise, though.

'Oi, Sirius! Want to have a drink with us?'

Black stopped only a mere second to glance over his shoulder.

'I'm sorry, Doris, but I'm busy right now.'

His tone was, again, very polite... and deadly cold. Doris looked taken aback, mumbled something and returned her attention to her drink. Black resumed his walk, only stopping once to dedicate small Dedalus Diggle a bow, and then he hastened to disappear through the door Tom had showed him.

This was, indeed, a very strange day. And it was bound to get stranger when Hagrid arrived with none other than The Boy Who Lived himself...

-

After mumbling a half-hearted 'hello', Sirius sank into the chair across from Dumbledore. He hoped that the old man would go straight to the point, as he certainly wasn't in the mood to linger. He'd spent the prior day explaining everything to Harry about his past, with the consequence that later Sirius had to deal with the boy's righteous anger (although there hadn't been much of that, as Harry had been far too surprised at the news of his magical powers to be truly mad at Sirius for keeping it from him). After that, he'd been very kindly escorted to the Ministry of Magic itself, a place he'd started to hate almost as much as Azkaban, where he'd been endlessly questioned about the events of that morning. As if that hadn't been enough, now Sirius faced the prospect of having to look for yet another new home, as their last location had been revealed. Just the thought of it exhausted the already weary Sirius.

Dumbledore must have noticed this, as he skipped all preliminary small talk.

'I have some good news for you, Sirius,' he said instead, as he materialized a cup of tea for Sirius and some sherbets lemon for himself.

The younger man straightened up in his seat, his eyes alight with interest. It was about time he received some good news.

'Aurelia Rookwood has been already apprehended and questioned at the Auror's Headquarters.'

Sirius snorted. 'Well, it's nice to hear that they can do something right from time to time.'

Acting as though he had not heard him, Dumbledore placidly continued:

'She is going to stand a trial for kidnapping, although I suspect she will probably be confined in St. Mungo's. Merlin knows her state of mind doesn't make her a suitable candidate for Azkaban.'

'Why not? She could share the cell with her husband. After all, if they believed it was good enough for me...'

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles and calmly said:

'That is the reason, I presume, they are trying to do things the proper way this time.'

Sirius felt a little ashamed at the bitterness of his previous comment, which had made him sound like a self-pitying child. It was amazing the way how, every time he face the Headmaster, Sirius felt more like a troublemaking child being chastised than like the adult he had become.

Dumbledore opted for a change of subject and asked about Harry.

'I left him with Hagrid. He's going with him to buy his school stuff – then I'll meet them in the McDonald's that's around the corner.'

'I am glad to hear it. I am certain that Hagrid is pleased at the prospect of getting to know James' and Lily's son.'

'Yeah...' Sirius absently murmured. Harry'd seemed to like Hagrid, too, which was quite a compliment for the half-giant as his godson usually didn't like strangers that much. Sirius himself had been happy to see Hagrid again. The gatekeeper looked exactly like Sirius remembered him – which probably made him one of the few things that had remained unaltered, as even Dumbledore himself, now he came to think of it, looked older. And there had been a time Sirius had believed Dumbledore to be immortal. Things changed, indeed.

'How did the nutter of Rookwood's wife find out about Harry's location? I thought that the security was tighter than ever...'

A grim expression sombered Dumbledore's features. 'She didn't find out precisely your location. She had a good amount of luck... and the, I hope, unknowing help of a rather nosy reporter who shall remain unnamed.'

Sirius cursed. Loudly.

'That wench! Honestly, one of these days, I'll just go and snap her neck, Azkaban be damned!'

'Now we have established that important fact,' Dumbledore interrupted his diatribe, his eyes twinkling, 'we should embark on the discussion of your future accommodation, at least in a short time period.'

Sirius knew sooner or later they would reach that part. He had already memorized each one of the steps: learning what had produced the last leak of information, suffocate it, find a new place, casting special security spells, moving in, getting a new job... He'd gone through the whole cycle more times than he could count.

Sirius had the distinct impression that Dumbledore had already started to make the necessary arrangements. Normally this would have annoyed Sirius, who considered he had a right to make some decisions about the future course of his life, thank you very much, but this time he felt so tired of the whole thing that he was willing to accept whatever came his way.

'I'm afraid that I have failed to tell you about Mr. Giles, an old friend of mine who is currently running the School for Vampire Slayers, haven't I?'

Sirius felt rather clueless. 'Er... by Slayers, do you mean those legendary Muggle girls with superpowers who go out at night to get rid of vampires and such?' Dumbledore nodded. Sirius was relieved that he'd remembered that little piece of information – after all, not many wizards and witches knew about those Muggle girls who were chosen to fight Dark creatures of the night and the legends that were told about them. Which, now he came to think of it...

'Wait a second... I thought there was only _one_ Slayer in each generation.'

Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. 'That was _before_. However, Slayers aren't my point. You see, Sirius, Mr. Giles has a very capable employee, a delightful woman indeed, who happens to have a son about Harry's age. Well, actually the boy's a year older – he's just finished his first year at Hogwarts.'

Sirius nodded, because he assumed that was expected from him, but so far he was clueless of what Dumbledore was rambling about. He knew the old man would make sense in no time... or at least, he hoped so.

'She's a Muggle, of course, and as a consequence of certain circumstances I shall explain to you later, she wasn't able to take care of her child. Mr. Giles requested my advice on the matter, and I happened to find a suitable wizard tutor for Connor. His mother's always been very grateful because of it – and she's delightedly accepted to host you and Harry in her home until you find a more suitable place. Hopefully this time in the Wizarding world.'

It took Sirius a longer while than usual to digest the full meaning of Dumbledore's words.

'Let me get it straight,' he said quietly, carefully placing the mug of tea he'd been sipping on the table. 'Are you telling me that Harry and I are going to move in with a Muggle woman I haven't heard of in my entire life?'

Dumbledore didn't bother to look up: he had his gaze fixed upon the sherbet lemon he was unwrapping.

'Yes, that is what I recall saying.'

Sirius stared at him. Dumbledore kept unwrapping the bloody candy, humming softly an old song of Celestina Warbeck as he did so.

'Professor, that makes no sense. Which kind of a security can a _Muggle_ provide us?'

'Well,' Dumbledore, who'd just unfinished the unwrapping, cheerfully said, 'not much. But she'd not be there to provide you protection; for that you'll count with my security spells and yourself, who have been doing a wonderful job so far. Besides,' he added, a little more seriously, 'you can't deny the great advantage it represents the fact she won't rush to spill the beans to the Daily Prophet. And, if I were you, I wouldn't underestimate a person's power just because she doesn't posses magic. Remember she trains Slayers for a living.'

'And what about her boy's tutor? Is he reliable enough?'

Dumbledore's response took a little longer this time, as he'd just put a major part of the sherbet inside his mouth. Sirius watched him as he swallowed, fascinated by the fact a man as old as Dumbledore could still eat as much candy as he did.

'I assure you, Sirius, that I selected the man in question with all possible caution, and that he's completely trustworthy.'

Sirius realised he would have to take Dumbledore's words for it, but if he could no longer trust in the Headmaster's judgement, then the Wizarding world was seriously screwed. Speaking of which...

'You also said that I could get a new place in the Wizarding world, didn't you?' Sirius asked, not daring to believe it. Dumbledore calmly nodded.

'Yes, Sirius, I said so. I think that, as Harry will go to Hogwarts this year and, by doing so, he will be introduced to the Wizarding community, you no are longer compelled to live as a Muggle. You can return to your world, Sirius.'

The young man was frozen to the spot. He could not believe his ears. He was returning to the Wizarding world. He had dreamed of this day for years. No more washing machine, no more small talk with people who didn't speak his same language, no more lies, no more doing everything the Muggle way. He was returning to the Wizarding world and, with that, to his old life.

Except that that was no longer a possibility. It didn't matter really if he went to live into a magical house again or if he got a Wizarding job. It didn't matter anymore if he could use his wand freely again and wander around Diagon Alley like in the old days. Because there just was no way, either magical or Muggle, that his life could be turned back to the way it had been. There were too many dark memories, too many inner demons lurking in the dark, for him to go back into his carefree old self.

And, most important of all, James and Lily were no longer there.

Silence fell upon them. Dumbledore seemed to sense what he was thinking, but he didn't mutter words of comfort – they both knew there were none. Instead, he patiently waited for Sirius to pull himself together again.

Swallowing to get rid of the knot in his throat, Sirius tried to say as casually as he could:

'So, what about this Muggle woman's special condition? You said you would tell me all about it...'

Dumbledore looked very grave all of a sudden. He even left the sherbet unattended. Intrigued, Sirius leaned forward to listen.

'Yes, I said I would tell you.'

And so he did. As Dumbledore spoke, Sirius' eyes widened in shock. When he stopped explaining everything, Sirius realised his jaw had fallen open. He closed it, swallowed, opened it again...

'Wait a bloody second... She's a _what_!'

-

Sirius was very silent when he reunited with Harry and Hagrid , his mind still working feverishly to take in everything Dumbledore had told him. Harry, though, didn't seem to notice. He was far too busy detailing his day to Sirius, with all the amazing stuff and people he'd seen, eating his hamburger and thanking Hagrid for the snowy white owl he'd given him as a birthday present to dwell on his godfather's unusually quiet mood. Besides, he had a thousand questions in his head, and as Sirius wasn't particularly talkative that day, Hagrid answered them as well as he could. The gatekeeper couldn't hide his astonishment at Harry's ignorance, but he did his best to explain to him what Quidditch was, with occasional remarks from Sirius, and how Hogwarts was divided in four Houses (giving, Sirius noted, a very biased opinion about Slytherin, not that he minded that much, though). However, Sirius felt compelled to intervene when Harry voiced his insecurities about whether he would make a good wizard or not, given his background.

'Harry, you aren't the only one who's grown up knowing nothing about magic. Your mum herself was a Muggle-born and one of the most superb witches I've ever known. It doesn't matter what that boy at Madam Malkin's or anybody else might say,' at this point, it was a little hard for Sirius to hide the bitterness in his tone, 'coming from a Wizarding family doesn't make you a better wizard or witch. You have the talent or you don't. And,' Sirius smirked, 'judging from all the underage magic you've already performed, I would bet you're going to make a terrific wizard.'

Hagrid nodded in approval at Sirius' words, and Harry smiled a little over his Coke, looking a little more reassured. Sometimes, Sirius wondered, with a pang of sadness, if Harry would ever realise how special he was.

The time to depart arrived at last. Hagrid had to return to Hogwarts at once so it was time to say goodbye. Harry, usually shy with strangers, let himself be hugged by Hagrid – for a moment, Sirius was afraid he might break the boy in two – and then, to his own surprise, Hagrid gave him a bear hug, too. It was an odd feeling: for a blissful second during that rib-cracking hug, Sirius had the impression he was twelve again and he didn't have a care in the world.

'Sirius, I bin so sorry fer not believin' yeh...'

'It's OK, Hagrid,' Sirius reassured him, 'It's all forgiven and forgotten now.'

Harry, he noticed, looked very pensive all the way back to the hotel where they would spend the night. Knowing from experience that nagging him would do no good, Sirius patiently waited for Harry to voice his worries. Sure enough, after a while he heard Harry timidly asking:

'Sirius... which House were my parents in?'

'Gryffindor,' replied Sirius at once, and he refrained to add: _Of course._ There was no need to sound biased.

'Oh,' was Harry's response, and he fell silent again. This time, though, Sirius was able to read what was going on his godson's head.

'That doesn't mean anything, Harry. Not every child goes to the same House his parents did – I didn't, for instance. Don't worry over the Sorting: each House has its good and bad qualities. You'll go to the one who fits you best.'

'So,' Harry began tentatively, 'you don't mind which House I end up in, do you?'

'Of course not, Harry,' Sirius hastened to reassure him, placing a hand on his bony shoulder, 'as long as you feel comfortable where you are.'

The boy smiled, looking relieved, and Sirius smiled back at him.

There was no reason, he reflected, to be biased and speak evil of Slytherin just because he didn't like that House. Harry had the right to face the Sorting Hat without any preconceived ideas.

Besides, Hagrid had already done all the necessary Slytherin bashing for both of them, hadn't he?

* * *

One bright August morning, Sirius and Harry got out from a taxi, the first looking as though he was heading towards his ultimate demise; the latter, with a look of curiosity on his young features. 

_So, this is it. Here starts our lil' holiday in a crypt_, Sirius thought wryly as he grabbed two suitcases and headed towards the brick square-shaped building in front of them, Harry trotting at his side with his school bag hanging over his shoulder. Sirius wondered, for the hundredth time, whether Dumbledore had gone mad or not and if so, why he was obeying his orders nevertheless. They were walking straight to danger, which in the past would have just excited him, but since he had to take care of Harry he saw the world with different eyes. And this was the place that Dumbledore, who was paranoid enough to practically stop Harry from having anything that resembled a social life, had considered safe enough for them to stay? Had he lost his marbles or what?

Oblivious to his godfather's distress, Harry looked at everything with interest. Sirius guessed that the building didn't look so bad on the inside – in fact, it looked like any other Muggle block of flats. Not like the place a... well, an evil creature of the night would live. An evil creature of the night who happened to have a son about Harry's age. Wasn't the world a very weird place to live in?

Much to Sirius' utter irritation, the lift didn't work, so they had to drag their suitcases up two flights of stairs. By the time they reached their destination, they were both sweating and Sirius' got a couple of bumps on his left arm. Bloody brilliant. Really, so far it was such a great day...

'If I'd known you were already here, I would have lent you two a hand with those. They look heavy.'

Sirius' looked up, and his gaze swept over the form of a slender, petite woman with fair skin and clear, detached eyes that were studying the scene before them. She was casually leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded over a light blue summer dress. Sirius noted she had managed to avoid the pools of sunlight that bathed the small hall.

'Here, let me take that,' she said, motioning towards the largest suitcase. For a fleeting second, Sirius thought of snatching it away from her – before he could react, though, the blonde woman had already lifted it, with the same ease as if it had weighted less than a feather. Sirius shot her a glare which she never acknowledged.

'Please, come in. It's cooler inside.'

With one last sigh, Sirius followed her into what certainly was the antechamber of hell.

For being the antechamber of hell, though, Sirius had to admit it looked rather nice and not at all like he would have expected. There was a spacious room, where kitchen, dinner room and living room seemed to be combined. The furniture was modern and classy, mostly in neutral or earthy colours – except for an occasional flash of colour every now and then. Surprised, he noted that the room wasn't dark at all. On the contrary, it was very illuminated, although not a lamp was lit. Frowning, Sirius took a closer look to his surroundings and, in spite of himself, he was impressed. The windows had been collocated in such a way that the light that poured through them reflected on a frieze which, Sirius realised, was made of little pieces of mirror patched artistically. This way, the whole room was alight with natural light – without casting one single ray of sunlight that could touch anyone on the room straightly. He had to admit it was very ingenious, indeed.

She left the suitcase next to a couch, gestured Sirius to do the same and turned to face them. Her blue gaze swept over him piercingly, as she held out her hand.

'I'm Darla.'

Reasoning that maddening their host wouldn't be a wise move, Sirius shook it.

'Sirius Black.'

'Nice to meet you.' She turned to Harry, and he noticed her eyes softened as she did so, whereas a warm smile curved her lips. 'And you must be Harry, right?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Her smiled broadened. 'Just call me Darla. Want something to drink?'

Sirius opened his mouth to say 'no' at the same time Harry said 'yes'. Darla made a gesture at Harry to follow her as she headed towards the fridge.

'A glass of milk? I have some coke, too...'

'Milk's fine, thank you.'

With the efficiency that's gained from practice, in no time she had a glass of milk and a plate of _Oreos_ placed in front of Harry. Her kind didn't poison people, did they?

As Harry was occupied emptying the contents of both the glass and the plate, it occurred to Sirius that it was time to make certain things clear.

'May I have a word with you, Darla?'

She glanced at him, a calculating look in her eyes.

'Sure,' she said in an expressionless tone. 'Here, Harry,' She handed the boy a control remote, 'you can watch TV if you want.'

She led the way along a narrow corridor, entered the first room and closed the door behind Sirius. He had enough time to notice they were in a boy's room before she turned to face him, hands on her hips. For the first time, he realised how incredibly young she looked – until one's gaze reached her eyes. Those eyes, which right now were fixed on his questioningly, didn't belong to a young person.

'So? What do you have to say?'

There probably were at least a dozen ways of approaching the subject more or less diplomatically – but Sirius Black had never been known for his diplomacy.

'I don't trust you.'

She merely raised an eyebrow, looking rather unimpressed.

'Really?' She shrugged. 'Can't say I'm surprised. Don't they teach at Hogwarts how to kill my kind?'

Sirius eyed her carefully, folding his arms over his chest. 'Does it bother you?'

She snorted and looked at him as if he were the stupidest bloke she'd ever seen.

'I train Vampire Slayers. I kill my kind _for a living_, remember?'

_Touché. _

'Let's make this fully clear, Black.' Her voice, thought Sirius, could probably cut through ice. 'I'm only doing this 'cause Dumbledore asked me to. The man's done a lot for me, so I wasn't going to refuse doing him a small favour. However,' she added, her expression blank, 'if you're afraid I might have a go at Harry, you're free to lock your bedroom at night.'

She turned round, opened the door and held it for him. Trying to keep what was left of his dignity, he walked past her with his head held high – although he thought he'd glimpsed a sneer on her face. He could have very well imagined it, though, because when Darla next spoke, as they headed back to the kitchen, her tone couldn't have been politer.

'I have a spare bedroom, see – you could share it with Harry or, if you prefer, he could sleep with Connor...'

'No – that's not necessary,' Sirius replied, keeping, like her, the polite facade now they were within Harry's earshot. 'Harry and I will share.'

He realised, though, that she was no longer paying him any attention. Something had distracted her, and she seemed to be listening intently to an inaudible sound... Soon, however, Sirius was able to hear it too: a key was turning in the keyhole.

The door flung open, and a blur of brown and blue flew past Sirius and right into Darla's waiting arms. Sirius and Harry, who was now wearing a white moustache, exchanged a questioning glance. At a closer look, though, Sirius managed to identify the brown-and-blue blur as a light brown-haired boy dressed in a navy blue T-shirt and jeans, whom Darla lifted as though he'd been weightless.

'Mum, you won't believe all the stuff we've seen... I've taken loads and loads of pictures... Mum, go easy, I can't brea –' His voice tailed off in mid-sentence, when over Darla's shoulder his blue eyes met Sirius' gray ones. The boy's eyes widened, and he hastened to urge:

'Mum, put me down on the floor, I'm not a small kid anymore!'

Chuckling, Darla released the child.

'To me, you're always be my lil' baby. And I've just missed you so much.' She beamed at him, and Sirius' stomach did a flip. Could this loving mother be a vampire...?

The boy rolled his eyes, which proved to be a mistake, as Darla took advantage of his distraction to plant a kiss on his cheek. He flinched, blushing furiously.

'_Mum!_ _There're people watching!_,' he hissed.

As Darla chuckled again, a male voice came from the doorway:

'Darla, please do stop embarrassing Connor, or otherwise you will have scarred him for life.'

Sirius froze on the spot. _That voice..._ He'd heard that voice before, he knew it far too well to mistake it, but...

_No way, no way in bleeding hell..._

Slowly, very slowly, Sirius' head turned to face the doorframe, all the time a small voice pleading _no, no, no, it can't be, don't let it be, no, no..._

Standing in the doorway, was a tall man, fully dressed in black, who had his hair parted in two greasy curtains around a sallow face. Sirius could not believe his eyes. Ten years had happened since he'd last seen this man and, despite that, he looked exactly as he remembered him; the same oily hair, the same slimy skin, the same cold, dark eyes...

And, of course, the same sneer plastered over his face.

'What's he doing here?'

Sirius heard the clattering sound made by Harry's glass on the breakfast table, he saw the man's sneer becoming more pronounced, he felt Darla stiffening next to him... But, rather surprisingly, the only one who dared to answer him was the boy. He jumped in front of Sirius, who noticed how skinny he was, although not nearly as much as Harry, and put his hands inside his jeans' pockets.

'Well,' he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, 'things are like this. This is my mother's place. She,' he waved a hand in Darla's direction, 'happens to be my mum, see. I don't live here, so that man standing over there, who happens to be my tutor, has brought me here so I could spend the rest of my holidays with my mum. See, that's the reason he's here.' Was it his overworked imagination, or had he just seen an amused twinkling in the boy's eyes? 'His name's Severus Snape. Oh, by the way,' ha added, holding out his hand, 'I'm Connor.'

Still too shocked to think of a good comeback, Sirius only muttered his own name as he shook the boy's white hand. The brat smiled, somewhat mockingly. Or perhaps he was just being paranoid.

'Nice to meet you, Sirius.' After one last glance, Connor headed towards the breakfast table. Sirius turned his head and saw Harry uncertainly approaching the strange boy.

'Um, hi. I'm Harry Potter.'

'Nice to meet you too, Harry,' Connor casually said, shaking his hand. Sirius noticed the boy didn't even flinch at the name, neither did his gaze sweep over the famous scar on his godson's forehead. Sirius idly wondered what his mother (or- shudder - Snape) might have told him beforehand so he would act so calm and collected while meeting a celebrity. He'd probably never know.

'Why don't you show Harry where he's going to stay, dear?'

Connor nodded at his mother and indicated Harry to follow him. Once they were without earshot, Snape took a couple of steps in and, closing the door behind him, said:

'Well, well, well, Black... we meet again. I must say that years have not gone easy on you, judging by your obviously decayed state. And, who would have believed it... Somebody was insane enough to give you a child's custody...'

Sirius' hands clenched into fists. 'You're one to talk, slime grease ball...'

'Stop it right now!'

Darla had strode over the centre of the room, right in the way between them. She was turning her head to glare each one of them in turn, her eyes flashing from anger.

'Professor McGonagall's told me all about you two, and like hell I'm letting you...'

'_McGonagall what?'_

Darla shrugged at Snape's hiss. 'Before letting _him_,' she shook her head in Sirius' direction, 'enter my house, I wanted a second opinion, as yours sounded a little... well, biased.' Ignoring Snape's indignant expression, she went on: 'So, I thought a needed a less partial opinion... and it occurred to me that there hardly could be a less biased person than Professor McGonagall, so I wrote to her. And she told me everything about', at this point, a sneer was slowly forming on her pale face, 'your special relationship.'

She put her hands on her hips and glared at them through narrowed eyes.

'I will make myself fully clear from the very beginning. I don't give a crap about your past or whether you want to kill each other once you're out of here. However, this is my house, and certain rules must be followed,' she said sternly. 'I will not tolerate bickering or fighting in my presence – least of all in front of the children. It's an awful example.'

Sirius stared at her, astonished beyond words. From what he could glimpse of Snape's expression, he hadn't expected this either.

For a second, Sirius thought of giving the petite bossy woman a piece of his mind... then he remembered she wasn't exactly a woman and kept his mouth shut. Obviously the other man's mind was thinking along the same lines, as he remained unusually silent.

'Now, Sirius,' she spoke in a softer, silkier voice, 'I think it'd be better if you began putting your things in order. Severus,' she turned to face the man, smiling, 'thanks for bringing Connor.'

Her smile wasn't mirrored on Snape's face. 'I would like having a word with Connor before I leave,' he said rather stiffly. Darla seemed quite unaffected at his cold attitude.

'Sure, I'll call him.'

As Darla did so, Sirius grabbed his suitcases and began to head towards the guest room, not before shooting Snape a last murderous glare.

This was going to be a very, very long summer.

* * *

The doorbell rang and Sirius, noticing Darla was busy taking out plates and glasses ('Ordered pizza – you okay with that?'), went to answer it. Much to his surprise, what he found at the doorframe wasn't the typical boy in his late teens, face covered in acne and dressed in some ridiculously bright uniform, he was used to. Actually, the man who was holding two boxes of pizzas was as far from that as it could possibly be. 

He was pale, very pale, with pointed cheekbones and spiky, peroxide blonde hair, and he was fully dressed in black, with a long leather duster, boots and black polish on his nails. Sirius blinked.

'You aren't the delivery boy, are you?'

The man raised an scarred eyebrow.

'Do I look like a bloody delivery boy to you?' Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. 'And who're you? Darla's new beau?'

Before the startled Sirius could recover from the shock and reply, a tinkling laugh was heard behind him.

'Far from it, Spike, far from it. Oh, you've brought dinner, that's wonderful.'

Sirius winced. Darla, who'd appeared out of nowhere, was now standing right beside him.

'Spike, this is Sirius Black. I told you about him, remember? That he and his godson were staying for a while?'

Spike, whose gaze was still fixed upon Sirius, nodded. 'Yeah, you mentioned that...' He frowned. 'Where do your folk get those bloody names that always end up in "us"?'

Darla visibly stomped on Spike's foot. 'Let's go inside, shall we?'

After taking the pizzas from Spike's hands, Darla headed towards the dinner table. Spike stepped into the flat with the air of one who's been there loads of times – sure enough, he'd barely got inside when Connor came rushing to meet him.

'Spike! You've got to see what I've brought from the Highlands, it's amazing...'

'Hullo, Pigeon,' Spike said affectionately as he ruffled the boy's hair. Connor scowled.

'Don't call me Pigeon, I'm twelve already, remember?'

Spike smirked. 'All grown up, aren't you? Almost ready for your drivin' license and all...' He shook his head. 'To me, kiddo, you're always gonna be...

'...Pigeon,' Connor finished for him, sadly.

'Hey, aren't you gonna introduce me to Scarface here?'

Sirius winced, and so did Harry, who had just popped up from behind the taller boy. Connor, though, merely rolled his eyes and whispered to Harry a 'just ignore him.' To Spike, he said:

'His name's Harry, not Scarface, and he's staying with us for the summer. Harry, this is Spike, I told you about him.'

Harry took a step forwards to shake Spike's hand, all the time eyeing the man with curiosity gleaming in his green eyes. Sirius noticed that the man's gaze lingered a moment on Harry's lightning-shaped scar.

'Kiddo, what happened on your forehead,' he asked casually.

An awkward silence fell upon them, as Harry stared at his trainers, Sirius glared at Spike and Spike himself shot Connor a questioning glance. Fortunately, Darla chose that very moment to call them to sit at the table.

Sirius assumed that dinner was going to be a rather awkward business. Darla and him hadn't started with the right foot, and things weren't improved by the fact Sirius winced every time he saw her raising her knife. On the other hand, Sirius had certain suspicions about Spike that didn't make him to feel comfortable at all, because surely the paleness of his skin couldn't be natural, not for a human at least...

_Bloody brilliant. I'm sharing the table not with one, but with two vampires._

Besides, the bloke certainly cursed too much in front of the children – or he did until Darla threatened him with her fork – which set a dreadful example.

_All right,_ Sirius himself cursed a lot too... but not so loudly, at least.

He felt rather left out at first, as Connor commented about his holidays with the Slime Grease Ball in the Highlands, and Spike and Darla talked about people he'd never heard about. However, in the middle of the dinner Spike idly commented:

''Course that damned Manchester had to lose, it always does when I go the the stadium...'

Sirius turned to face him. 'Did you go to see the Manchester? How was it?'

And so Sirius and Spike embarked themselves in an interesting conversation about the Manchester United and football in general, which included a lot of Arsenal bashing. Sirius soon forgot about Spike's earlier unfortunate comment about Harry's forehead, and he also stopped glancing at Darla every time she moved her knife.

It was, certainly, a very odd situation, sharing a table with a female vampire and a peroxide blonde punk who also happened to be a fan of the Manchester. It was even weirder to see Connor Angel, the boy whose mother was a vampire and who'd been raised up by none other than Snivellus himself, laughing with Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding world and son to James Potter, as though they were the _bestest_ friends in the world.

Sirius decided they had just given the word "bizarre" a whole new meaning.

* * *

**Sparky:** Nice to hear you still like this. Hope you like as well the turn things have turned now...

**Luna Moonlight Fawn:** As for the crazy witch, you have to wait no more. She's locked in St. Mungo's and probably won't be seen again. i'm glado you liked my twist, I'm trying to make this fic original but also to be faithful to the book. Thanks!

**The Female Nerd:** Wait no more! Here's the chapter, hope you've liked it. It's always nice to find new readers.

**Next, in '2SP': Chapter 23: The Potted Plant Incident. Sirius and Harry will face some unexpected obstacles while living at Darla's and Connor's place...**


	24. Chapter 23

**Thanks to Joycelyn for her work. Believe me, this would be much harder to read if she wasn't my beta.

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Potted Plant Incident**

When he first opened his eyes, Sirius didn't know where he was. He wasn't surprised, though. The feeling of disorientation had become familiar over the last seven years with all the times he and Harry had moved around.

His gaze swept around his surroundings. It was a square-shaped room with white, nude walls and two twin iron-made beds, with a small table and a lamp between them. There wasn't anything personal or familiar in the room, except for the worn-looking suitcase at the foot of his own bed, which he'd used many times in the past. As soon as he saw it, he remembered.

_I'm in the house of a bloodsucking vampire, who has a child that was raised by none other than Snivellus himself. _

Bloody brilliant.

As he headed towards the kitchen, the faint sound of children's laughter and chattering reached his ears. Of course, Harry had always gotten up very early, and it seemed that the Angel boy had the same habit as well. Both of them were sitting at the breakfast table, over which several books and photographs were spread. Harry was putting toast right into his mouth as Connor gestured with his hands, evidently explaining something, and it was only by pure luck he didn't knock over the bowl of cereal in front of him.

'Morning, kids.' Sirius walked past them, not without noticing that the books seemed to be Hogwarts textbooks and that the pictures were very clearly magical.

Harry mumbled something that Sirius translated as a 'Hi, Sirius!' although it was hard to say, as the boy's mouth was obstructed by toast. Connor stopped his explanation long enough to let out a 'Morning' and indicate where the coffee and the mugs were. Then, as Sirius started to fix his breakfast, Connor resumed his description right where he'd left it.

'...so if you misbehave, teachers take points from your House, and if you do something right (like winning a Quidditch match or giving a right answer in class) they give you points. By the end of the year, points are counted, and the House with the most points is awarded with the House Cup. Last year, for instance, Slytherin won _both_ the Quidditch and the House Cups.'

_Probably by cheating_, Sirius thought idly, as he poured some coffee into a blue mug. It was oddly comforting to see things at his old school hadn't changed at all.

'What are the Houses like and how do you get selected for each one of them?'

'Well,' Connor said, in the superior tone that only a second-year in front of a future first-year could master, 'Each House represents different personality traits, and you get selected according to which traits you possess. But don't ask me how the selection works: we aren't supposed to tell.'

_Or I would have already told Harry all about it._

Harry was silent for a moment, probably more than a little disappointed at the elusive answer.

'But which are the traits of each House?'

This time, the answer took a little bit longer, as Connor had first to swallow a spoonful of cereal.

'In Hufflepuff, they're all supposed to be hard-workers and very loyal, see. In Ravenclaw you'll find all the smart ones. Slytherin's for the cunning and Gryffindor, for the bravest. Some might tell you that all Hufflepuff are losers, 'cause they never win the Cup, or that Slytherins are evil or something – that's bullshit. Each House has its good and its bad traits.'

_The boy sounds just like a McGonagall speech,_ Sirius thought, although he felt impressed in spite of himself. Not many children of Connor's age were capable of talking with such unbiasedness. The effect, though, was somewhat ruined when the boy added:

'Of course, the best House of all is Gryffindor.'

'Why is that so,' Harry inquired, sounding surprised. Sirius, who'd just turned as he took the mug of coffee to his lips, glimpsed a knowing smile spreading over Connor's face.

'Well, because that's the House I'm in, obviously.'

Both boys jumped and yelped when the blue coffee mug crashed on the floor... right on Sirius' left foot, which he felt burning as the scorching coffee soaked his slipper. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his wand and repaired the thrice-damned mug as he cleaned up the coffee stains on the floor as well.

'Sirius, are you all right,' a concerned Harry asked, after getting over the impression of seeing his godfather perform magic. To the Muggle-raised boy, it was still a wonder each time he saw magic.

Sirius mumbled an 'I'm fine', as he put the mug on the sink. All in a sudden, the urge to drink coffee had vanished.

Frowning slightly, he turned to Connor. 'Sorry, I must've misheard you – did you just say you were in _Gryffindor_?'

Connor kept his face unreadable.

'No, you haven't misheard me.'

Sirius noticed that Harry was now looking at him with a look of curiosity in his green eyes, but he ignored it.

'You – you're in Gryffindor? _For real?_'

'Connor's already said it twice. Are you deaf or do you need me to spell what he says?'

The three of them winced and turned to look at Darla, who'd appeared out of nowhere. Her thin frame was wrapped in an over-sized bathrobe, her hair was a mess and her skin a couple of shades paler than usual. And, by the way, she looked rather cross.

'Uh-oh,' Connor whispered to Sirius. 'She hates to be waken up early.'

_And you tell me that _now

She ran a hand through her hair and fixed her eyes on Sirius'. It took him all his nerve not to take a step backwards.

'I don't know who was the caveman that brought you up, Black, but I'd appreciate a bit of quiet while I sleep. Do you think you can accomplish that?'

Sirius mumbled a 'yes', feeling utterly annoyed. Did she have to make him look like an idiot in front of the children?

'And I also hope that everything's clean and in its place when I return,' she added sternly. In that moment, a timid voice was heard:

'I can do the washing-up...'

Darla turned to face Harry, and at once her scowl melted into a tender smile. 'You're such a darling, Harry. Thank you so much for your offer – but I bet your godfather can handle it all by himself.'

And with that, she turned round on her heels and disappeared from sight, probably to return to bed. As soon as she was out of earshot, Connor let out a relieved sigh.

'Wow. That was a close call.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Is she always such a sweet-tempered girl?'

'Oh, no,' Connor replied with a smile, 'only on a Sunday at nine AM.'

'She's nice... to me,' Harry piped up. Connor and Sirius exchanged a look.

'Wait till you know her better,' the boy said knowingly, but soon the subject was forgotten as Connor began telling Harry about Professor Binns and his dramatic entrance through the blackboard. Sirius frowned. Had things at Hogwarts changed so little since Sirius had last set foot there?

In that moment, Sirius spotted something that made him want to slap himself.

Lying over the pile of books he'd noticed earlier, he now saw that there was a long, red-and-gold banner, with the word _'Gryffindor'_ written all across it.

_Idiot._

---

After the whole ordeal was over, Connor wondered who on earth had been mad enough to give his mother a potted plant. It was well-known fact that Darla Jones did not have good touch with plants. There was a reason Connor had stopped giving her flowers for Mother's Day – somehow, the flowers in her care just happened to die within hours. No wonder he was such a disaster at Herbology, given his genes...

Later on, he learnt that she'd gotten the thrice-damned plant from a coworker, as a 'thank you' for helping her with some financial trouble. However, it wasn't important to know who had given her the plant or why. What was important was that the plant in question was a common, very Muggle potted plant... until Harry Potter came into the equation, that is.

-

When Harry woke up that morning, he was only a little fevered. After fussing over him for a while, Sirius gave him some aspirin, and asked him for the eleventh time if he would be all right. Harry assured him that he didn't feel too bad, and that Sirius shouldn't worry over him. Finally, Darla told Sirius that, if he had to go to look for a house, which had been his original plan, he'd better go at once and that she would take care of Harry. Connor noticed that Sirius still felt uneasy, but he had no other choice.

During that day, Connor and Harry mostly watched videos, as the latter wasn't up to do nothing that required more energy. To Connor, Harry didn't look too ill, but late in the afternoon, when Darla pressed her hand on the boy's forehead, a frown was formed on her face.

'The fever's risen. You'd better go to bed, Harry, at least until your godfather arrives.'

The boy tried to protest, but he was obviously not feeling all right so he finally let Darla carry him to his bedroom. Connor watched the proceedings with curiosity. Now he came to think of it, he didn't remember the last time he'd had fever. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been ill at all.

At nigthfall, Sirius arrived in quite a foul mood. Evidently the house hunting thing hadn't turned out too well. He went to check on Harry, whose fever had risen a little more.

'I'll give him a bath and, if that doesn't work, I'll call a doctor.'

Connor saw his mother nodding in agreement at Sirius' words (which was a little odd, as they never seemed to agree on anything) as she got ready for work.

'Spike'll come in a few minutes – he can lend you a hand if necessary.'

Connor's spirits rose at these words. He'd had a really dull day, but he was certain that Spike would find a way to entertain him. Spike was always so much fun to have around.

Spike arrived in the same moment that Darla left. She warned him that Harry was sick, so he and Connor shouldn't do anything too noisy, and that included electrical guitar lessons. That didn't cheer up the boy, but he guessed that if it was for Harry's welfare, then he'd have to keep it quiet. But it was just going to be _so_ boring!

However, Connor was wrong. Spike had bought a new video game, which they rushed to try on the Nintendo. Connor was glad to see that in this game he would have the upper hand, just like in most of the video games he played with Spike. Truth to be told, the man didn't get along with the joystick that well.

'There are beetles under my pillow,' a tremulous voice said behind them. 'They're green and they look poisonous.'

Connor and Spike turned round and saw a very pale Harry, whose eyes were red-rimmed and his pyjamas had stuck to his body with sweat. Both Spike and Connor left their joysticks, the game suddenly forgotten, and rose to their feet. Harry looked at Spike with curiosity.

'I don't know you. Who are you?'

'Um, Harry, this is Spike. You've met him before,' Connor said tentatively, but it didn't seem like Harry understood a word of what he'd said. Instead, the pallid boy repeated: 'There are green beetles under my pillow. Or perhaps they're bugs.'

Spike approached the sick-looking boy with caution.

'Harry, why don't you lie down on the couch while I look for Sirius?'

Harry, though, was no longer paying him any attention: his eyes had widened until they resembled huge saucers and he pointed at something behind Spike with a shaking finger. Connor followed his friend's gaze and saw the potted plant. He had no idea what about the plant could have caught Harry's attention. The dark-haired boy had now started to mutter feverishly intelligible words and he seemed to be losing his balance. Spike hurried to catch him.

'Kiddo, I'm takin' you to the loo, where your godfather's gonna give you a bath, okay?'

Spike and Connor waited in the kitchen as Sirius, who thanks to Merlin had already prepared the bath, took care of Harry. Spike put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

'Don't worry, Pigeon. Scarface's gonna be all right – he was just hallucinating a lil' bit 'cause of the fever.'

Connor nodded, trying to look unconcerned, but the truth was that the episode had freaked him out a little. Harry'd seemed possessed or something, and also to be in a great amount of pain. Perhaps that was why he still felt shaken and had even begun to eye the innocent-looking potted plant suspiciously. Had it looked that big before or was it just his imagination...?

'What happens if the fever doesn't go down?' he inquired, a little too anxiously to sound natural. Spike eyed him a moment, probably seeing though his cool facade, and smiled as he ruffled the boy's hair.

'It'll go down, Pigeon. Nobody dies of a bloody fever anymore, kiddo.' Seeing that he didn't look altogether ressured, he added 'What 'bout resumin' our game? Like hell I'll let you win that easily.'

Connor laughed at this and accepted at once. The chances Spike had of beating him were very close to zero.

As Darla wasn't there to scold them, Connor and Spike raced to the couch and jumped on it, bouncing and laughing as they grabbed the joysticks. Before resuming their game, though, Connor cast one dubious glance at the plant. It did look bigger, as if its stems had enlarged or something...

_Connor, you have far too much imagination_, a voice said in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a little like Severus'.

Without sparing the plant another thought, he focused all his attention on the screen and in wiping Spike's Street Fighter off it.

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius resurfaced from the bedroom he shared with Harry, looking weary but also somewhat relieved. Spike and Connor paused their game at once and craned their necks to face him.

'How's Harry?'

Sirius smiled tiredly at Connor. 'The fever's going down. Now he's sound asleep – he needs the rest...'

The man sat with them and watched their game without interest. Connor and Spike focused their attention back to the screen. Somehow Connor had gotten stuck with the girl with the absurd pompoms in her head; all the same, he was kicking Spike's butt.

'Hey, was your mother's plant that big?'

Connor looked up and frowned. Had it looked that large ten minutes ago?

'Ha, can't believe you fell for that,' Spike exclaimed in triumph, and Connor could see how the silly girl was being beaten up unmercilessly. Bollocks!

Another fifteen minutes passed, during which Sirius went at least two times to check on Harry, who was still sleeping peacefully, the fever almost gone. Suddenly, a cracking sound that did not came from the violent game caught Spike's and Connor's attention. They looked up and their jaws fell open in horror, as the joysticks slipped from their hands.

The cracking sound had been produced by a leg of one of the dinner table chairs splitting in two, which was provoked by a long, green tentacle. Shocked, Connor realised it was one of the potted plant's stems – althouth now it was as thick as one of Spike's arms. Before their widened eyes, the stem twisted around the chair, triturating it to little pieces. As one stalk was still tearing the chair into pieces, another one proceeded to seize a second chair. Connor blinked and followed the stem with his gaze until he reached the potted plant... although it no longer _looked_ like a potted plant. Its leaves were thrice its previous size and, along with the stems, now they covered at least a half of the wall where the shelf on which the plant had formerly stood was.

'What the...?' Spike turned to face Connor. 'Pigeon, you know 'bout this stuff... is it a cursed plant or something?'

Connor frowned. 'No... it was a Muggle plant, I'm sure of it...' Truth to be told, Connor was terrible at Herbology, but he reasoned that even a two-year-old would be able to distinguish between a ficus and a magical plant. Then he remembered something.

'Harry! He pointed at it and said something... it must have been some sort of uncounscious magic...'

'Bloody marvellous. Nice kid, lil' Scarface,' Spike said grimly. A smashing sound was heard and they both winced; aghast, Connor saw how his mother's colourful vases, that were in a shelf not far from the plant, had just been shattered. She wasn't going to be happy...

_CRACK._

They turned to see the second chair splitting in two. They exchanged a glance.

'Well, I s'pose there's only one thin' left to do...'

'BLACK,' they both screamed at the top of their lungs. Sirius, who'd gone for the third time to check on Harry, surfaced looking rather murderous.

'What do you think you're doing, yelling like that? Harry's asleep...' His voice, though, tailed off when he saw the bizarre scene that was taking place before his eyes. He stood still for a moment, in shock, as the stems spread over the floor and walls, whereas the leaves seemed to increase their size with every passing second.

'Scarface did it,' Spike offered, as Sirius appeared to be unable to speak. He recovered soon, though.

'OK, I think this can be easily fixed...' he said, although Connor couldn't help noticing he didn't look half as confident as he tried to sound. Sirius walked past them, stood in front of the plant and withdrew his wand from his pocket.

'_Finitem Incatatem!_,' he bellowed impressively. Connor and Spike watched expectantly, but seconds passed by and the plant kept growing larger. Sirius frowned.

'All right, that didn't turn out well. Let's see.'

He pronounced another incatation, one Connor did not know. A red spark hit the core of the plant, blasting the pot, its pieces flying everywhere... but the plant remained unharmed. Alarmed, Connor noted that the stems were getting closer to the armchair was next to him.

'OK, 'nuff is 'nuff.'

Spike jumped over the couch, strode towards the breakfast table, jumped over it as well and launched himself towards the drawers where his mother kept cooking utensils. When Spike was at his side again, which happened in only a mere second, Connor saw he was holding the largest knife his mother possessed. Before Sirius or Connor could stop him, Spike proceeded to start chopping all the stems that were the closest to him.

'See, Black? I'm no warlock, but my method is more effective than yours,' he said smugly. Sirius opened his mouth to reply...

'Watch out, Spike!'

At Connor's cry, he turned and saw a stem closing in his anckle.

'Bollocks!'

He sliced it smoothly and smiled, relieved... only to see how the now two separate parts of the stem stuck back together, growing even thicker and larger. Spike jumped as another long green arm tried to get hold of him, but now the stalks acted as though they were tentacles and were able to rise from the floor to attack. When one of them was mere inches away from Spike's waist, a snapping sound was heard and the stalk fell to the floor, dead. Both Connor and Spike turned to see Sirius holding his wand high, a triumphal look on his face.

'Whose method works now, Spike?'

However, there were so many stems sprouting from the plant now that even Sirius' spell and Spike's knife couldn't keep them at bay. Seeing how the damned plant was winning over half of the room, Connor rushed to his bedroom, grabbed an old Beater bat and dashed back into battlefield. With Spike by his side, Connor began stricking every part of the plant he could reach, always careful to stay away from its grip. Sirius, meanwhile, tried every spell he could think of with no apparent success.

'I know there must be something for this... if only I could remember it...'

All around them was a mayhem: vases were getting smashed, the curtains were ripped in pieces that fell flatly to the ground; thinner stems had entwined around the dinning table, and for a split second darkness fell upon them, as one of those damned green tentacles seized the ceiling lamp. Fortunately, Sirius shot a well-aimed hex at it and the light returned. Although, Connor thought bitterly, it didn't make much of a difference: the air was filled with dust that prevented them from seeing much, and it seemed like the world around them had turned completely green.

Connor jumped to avoid the grip of a green tentacle, swirled and striked with his bat once and again. At his side, Spike brandished the knife as if it were an axe, swinging it and chopping all the stems he could reach. Connor caught something by the corner of his eye that made him turn round and groan: a thick, dark stalk was slithering over the wooden floor, going straight to the TV set. His eyes narrowed as he saw the tentacle approaching the video game box...

'No way in sodding hell,' he growled. 'You may destroy my house, but like hell I'll let you touch my Nintendo!'

He jumped over the coffee table, nearly knocking it over, fell on the floor and almost tripped when one of his feet slipped after landing on a slithering stalk. He regained his balance, swirled and saw the infuriating green tentacle, that was as thick as his arm, getting closer to the Nintendo. Furious, he raised the bat, which he was seizing with both his arms, over his head and struck. The damned thing kept sliding, imperturbable. Connor raised the bat and striked again and again, until he reduced the stalk into pulp. Panting, he smirked.

'I'm not going to be beaten up by a sodding plant... aaaaargh!'

A tendril had circled his anckles, tightened its grip and made him fall to the floor on his face. The bat slipped from his hands and rolled away from him, as Connor tried to rise to his feet only to fall again. Horrified, he saw how the plant had circled his legs and was going upwards, until he felt its tight grip on his chest. He tried to fight it, but soon his arms were wrapped as well and his whole body was slowly being immobilized. He struggled, feeling how the oxygen abandoned his lungs. He opened his mouth to cry for help, but a bunch of leaves got into it.

'Hmph!'

Spike turned around, his eyes widening.

'Bollocks!'

He ran towards Connor, fell on his knees and began cutting the green tendrils and stems that had curled around him, unsuccesfully.

'_Relashio!_'

Connor felt how the plant loosened its grip on him as his chest expanded and great gulps of breath filled his lungs. With watery eyes he saw Sirius, who'd turned to help him when he'd realised what was going on, had once more focused his attention on the plant. Connor felt how Spike seized him by under his shoulders and helped him to stand up.

'You alright, Pigeon?'

Connor nodded, still gulping for air. He watched Sirius' vain attempts to tame the plant, vanish it or detroy it, all of them failing. Making up his mind, he grabbed Spike's arm.

'Spike, don't you think... don't you think it's time I call Severus for help?'

The man frowned.

'Kiddo, there's no way we can contact him now... he's got no phone...'

'I can. He gave me something to do so – a two-way-mirror.' At Spike's look of incomprehension, Connor, exasperated, added: 'It's a device to communicate at once – like one of those little phones you carry with you...'

'A mobile?'

'Yeah, whatever. Look, shouldn't I call him?'

Spike shook his head softly. 'Dunno, Pigeon. It might hurt Sirius' feelings.'

In that moment, one of the armchairs was upturned. Connor and Spike turned to look at it, and they saw how a zillion tendrils were tearing apart the cushions. With his eyes still fixed on the armchair, Connor softly said:

'Spike... have you thought what Mum's going to say when she sees this?'

There was a moment of silence. Connor darted a glance at Spike, but his eyes remained fixed on the armchair and his face was unreadable. Suddenly, he turned to face Connor, looking impatient.

'What are you waiting for? Go and call Severus already!

'But you said... Sirius' feelings...'

'Sirius? I know no Sirius. Go and get help!'

Connor didn't need to be told twice. He ran all the way to his bedroom, which remained unharmed, launched himself to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, so hard that it fell to the floor.

'Damn!'

He soon found the small package he was looking for. He unwrapped it with fumbling fingers and retrieved a plain mirror.

The day he'd taken Connor to his mother's place, Severus had asked the boy to write him every single day, and then he'd given him the mirror. He'd explained that it would communicate with an identical mirror he possessed, and that he should use it during an emergency. Connor had been slightly dumbfounded, wondering whether Severus expected him to be murdered in his bed or something. Now, though, Connor couldn't have felt more grateful.

'Severus! Severus, it's me!'

Connor's reflection melted, and soon his features turned into the familiar face of Severus'.

'Connor? What is the matter?'

The boy thought he'd never felt so relieved to hear that familiar voice.

'Severus, things have gone to hell here. Harry's cursed Mum's plant – don't know what he did to it, but now the plant's alive and it's attacking us. Sirius' trying to stop it, but he can't find the right spell, and the plant is tearing the whole place apart, Mum's going to kill us, and please, please come and save us.'

Severus' expression was blank.

'A Muggle plant is attacking you? Connor, if this is your idea of a joke...'

Connor opened the door of his bedroom, stretched out his arm and put the mirror so it would face the mayhem that was taking place at the living room. After a few seconds, he turned the mirror to him. Severus face was grave.

'I will be there in a moment.'

Before Connor could add anything else, Severus' face vanished and Connor found himself staring at his own reflection.

'YES!'

When Connor returned to the living room, he saw Sirius wearing a triumphal look on his face.

'I knew that some variation of the freezing spell had to work...'

And sure enough, the plant had stopped growing or attacking stuff and now lay flat and motionless. Spike turned a still tendril with his foot, looking dubious.

'Are you sure it's over?'

Before Sirius could reply, the front door opened.

'Finally,' Connor exclaimed and he rushed to the door. However, when he reached the doorframe, he saw Severus wasn't standing there alone.

'Mum? Why are you here...?' He turned to Severus, alarmed. 'Did you call her?'

'No,' his mum replied instead, 'I came earlier to check on Harry, and I just happened to find Severus in the hall. He tells me you said a plant was attacking you...' She broke in mid-sentence when, over Connor's shoulder, her eyes met the disaster her house had turned into. 'What the hell...?' Her jaw fell open.

Connor followed her gaze and thought he could not blame her for the horrified expression on her face. Half of her beloved flat, which had taken her years to decorate it the way she wanted, now resembled the ruins of a battlefield or a remake of _Jumanji_.

'One hour,' she hissed when she'd finally found her voice, 'I leave you in charge, Black, for _one single hour_, and when I return my home's turned into Kosovo!'

Her eyes were flashing with anger and Spike and Connor, who knew her better, took a step backwards. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn't wise or quick enough.

'Hey, it wasn't my fault, OK?'

Seeing that his mother seemed ready to jump at his throat, Connor hastened to intervene.

'Mum, it's true, it wasn't Sirius' fault.'

And he proceeded to explain what had happened with Harry and the plant. As she heard Connor's tale, her anger turned into worry over Harry's state, then relief, and finally, with one last look at the wreckage around her, resignation.

'Guess the insurance company isn't gonna pay for this, huh?' She turned to Severus. 'I guess there's nowhere in that magical goverment of yours where I could report this to get my money back...'

Sirius was indignant.

'You aren't going to turn Harry in!'

She seemed surprised.

'Of course not, poor devil.' Darla looked at him with a cool, calculating look in her eyes. 'As the minor's legal guardian, I was thinking of turning _you_ in.'

Sirius opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water gulping for air. Connor took pity on him.

'Mum, he managed to stop the plant from growing... it had begun to attack us...'

'We can all see for ourselves the astounding results of Mr. Black's brilliant job at taming a _plant_, Connor.'

Sirius shot a murderous glare at Severus, then turned to Connor.

'What did you have to call him for? Didn't you think I'd be able to handle it by myself?'

The honest answer was 'no', but Connor thought it would be insensitive – not to say unwise – to give it, so he remained silent. His feelings must have showed on his face, as Sirius turned his face from him, looking quite offended.

'Gentlemen, _please_,' Darla hissed and gave Spike an eloquent look. At once, Connor felt the weight of the man's hand on his shoulder.

'C'mon, Pigeon. Let's go to check on Scarface. He'll need some company...'

'But he's asleep!'

'All the more reason to check on him. Imagine he gets another bloody nightmare...'

-

Darla rubbed her temples. This was the worst headache she'd had in ages. And it promised to get worse.

Her home, at least, had returned to its normal state. The damned plant was vanished, and between Black and Severus they'd managed to put right all that had been broken or shattered. One could almost believe that nothing abnormal had taken place. Almost.

Of course, Severus and Black had bickered all the time they'd been working. Mostly, they had been making wry comments under their breaths so Darla would not hear them, which was incredibly foolish on their part, as her superb hearing prevented her from missing anything. She didn't understand half of what they said, anyway, as they kept making references to a past only they knew. At first she'd ignored them, seeking refuge in the kitchen area, which had remained miraculously whole and unscathed, where she'd prepared herself a steaming cup of tea.

'It will never cease to amaze me the stupidity of certain people. I mean, I am not surprised that Potter could be idiotic enough to choose you as his offspring's legal guardian, but one would have thought that his wife could have showed more common sense. Or that at least Albus would have.'

'Shut up, you disgusting grease slime ball... How you dare to call James and idiot, you were always so envious of him...'

Okey, so enough was enough.

Darla left her her now empty cup on the breakfast table, rose from the stool and headed towards them.

'Gentlemen, please stop this now.'

They turned to glare at her, both of them looking equally pissed off at the interruption.

'Darla,' Black hissed, 'this is none of your business. Stay out of it.'

And then, he committed the stupidest mistake of his life: he proceeded to put a hand on her shoulder to push her out of the way. Darla, though, had other ideas.

She grabbed Black's wrist and, with one smooth movement of her delicate hand, twisted it.

Black's eyes widened, as his face grew several shades paler and he let out a gasp of both shock and pain. Darla released his wrist, which Black hastened to rub with his other hand, his eyes still as round as saucers.

'Don't be such a sissy, Black. It's not broken.'

Behind her, Severus sniggered... but his sniggering soon died away when her elbow mad full impact with his stomach. All the air was pulled out from his lungs, making him to bend in two.

Darla took a step backwards and observed the two men, who were now glaring at her, a mixed expression of rage and pain on their faces. Once she was certain she'd caught their full attention, she spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

'Listen up, gentlemen, Listen very carefully. I'm not nice. I'm not gentle. And I don't repeat things twice. I told you I would tolerate no bickering in my house. I don't care whether Severus murdered your teddy bear, Black; or whether Black shagged the girl you wanted to take to the dance, Severus. Whichever problem you have, you solve it outside, far away from the children's or mine's earshot. Have I made myself fully clear?'

For a moment, it seemed like both of them would have liked to protest, or even to curse her into next week. However, when their eyes met hers, the rage in theirs subsided, to be slowly replaced with a feeling Darla recognised at once, having provoked it so many times before: fear.

'From now on, you'll try to pretend you are civilized people. Otherwise,' her tone dropped yet another octave, 'next time, you'll hit the hospital.'

And with that, she turned on her heels and headed to Harry's room, to check how the poor boy was doing.

A day later, Harry was fully recovered and quite shocked at the mayhem that had taken place while he slept soundly.

'Yeah, you missed all the fun, Scarface.'

Connor turned to glare at Spike. He could hardly think of nearly being killed by a plant as 'fun'. Spike, though, had a twisted sense of humour.

'I really did that,' Harry said, astounded. 'I don't remember anything.'

'Well, you nearly got all of us killed, Scarface, but don't feel guilty.'

Connor shot a pillow at Spike, who ducked just in time. The pillow hit the door, which opened a second later to reveal a very tired-looking Darla.

'I've just eliminated anything remotely vegetable in the house,' she informed them gravely. 'From now on, plastic flowers will do.'

* * *

**Thanks to pottersparky and all those who read but couldn't leave reviews. In next chapter, the coexistence between Sirius and Connor will know some great obstacles...**


	25. Chapter 24

Thakns to Joycelyn Solo, my loyal beta, and to Luna Moonlight Fawn, Sparky and The Female Nerd for reviewing. After this chapter there will be only one more left, so enjoy this fic while it lasts!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: War and Peace**

During the couple of days following the potted plant incident, Connor felt a distinct air of coldness emanating from Sirius. At first, he'd felt rather clueless. He couldn't recall doing anything that could have upset the man. Then he remembered what Spike had said about hurting his feelings when Connor had suggested calling Severus for help. But honestly! What was he supposed to do? He didn't know Sirius that well, and his feeble attempts hadn't given Connor much confidence in his ability to beat the plant. It was only natural he would resort to calling Severus during an emergency, whom he had more reason to trust. Wouldn't Harry have done the same, had the situation been the opposite?

In spite of this logical reasoning, Sirius still looked rather resentful over the whole episode. Connor couldn't understand it, but he was perceptive enough to note that there was something not quite right about Severus and Sirius. Although his mum had refused to talk about it and Connor didn't dare to ask Severus, the boy had noticed how Sirius stiffened every time Severus was mentioned, and he'd also noted the insistence of his tutor on him writing every day... as if he were afraid Connor would be murdered in his sleep or something.

Adults could be so weird, sometimes.

One day, Connor couldn't stand it any longer so he bluntly asked Sirius whether he was mad at him or not. The man had looked surprised

'Why would I be mad at you,' he inquired, sounding bemused. Connor shrugged.

'I dunno. Maybe 'cause I called Severus to lend us a hand during the potted plant incident.'

A fleeting shadow crossed Sirius' face and he stiffened slightly. However, soon his muscles relaxed again as he recovered his usual carefree air.

''Course not. Don't worry ver it, kiddo.'

Relieved at these words, Connor pretty much forgot about the whole incident. His mother was still being a little cold to Sirius, whereas the man seemed to be extra cautious when she was around, as though he was a little afraid of her reaction if he misstepped. Harry and Connor, though, were blissfully unaware of this. There had so much to be done, so much to be talked about. Harry wanted to learn all he could about Hogwarts and Connor was eager to share his wisdom, and in their free time there were films to be watched, places to be visited and games to be played so they never got bored.

As a result of this, Connor had forgotten all about Sirius' imagined or not resentment when one night he slipped under the blankets of his bed and felt a tight grip on his ankle.

He yelped, jumping out of bed and knocking the bedside table over. The lamp smashed against the wooden floor, the clock rolled over until it ended up under the bed but Connor payed no attention – whatever was grabbing his leg, it was not loosening its grip.

Unnerved, he jerked his leg, only to feel a slippery thing sliding all the way up his leg, twisting and straining it. Shocked, he looked down and saw a greenish, thin thing-y that looked too much like a snake for Connor to be comfortable. In spite of being raised to be the perfect Slytherin, Connor couldn't have liked serpents, snakes or the like any less. He tried to shove it off with his hands with no success: it seemed like the harder he tried to get free, the tighter the grip was. Just getting a little desperate, perhaps even panicking a bit, Connor looked around and his gaze landed on his heavy Herbology book. _This will do._ He stretched out one arm and grasped the book, as with his other hand he tried to keep the snake at bay. He hesitated a moment, sparing a glance at the thick book and then at his trapped leg._ Here it goes..._

Closing his eyes, he raised his right arm and let it fall with all his strangth on the slippery trap. As the book made full impact with his knee, Connor felt a blinding pain going all the way up his leg. He bit his lower lip not to whimper, and dared to open one eye and peek. Damn it! The bloody thing was still there.

This time, with both his eyes wide open, he raised his arm again, but was very careful to aim well before letting his arm fall. His efforts paid off, as the back of the book hit the snake, which not only let go of his leg, but also flew a meter before falling to the floor. His lungs depressing in a sigh of relief, the heavy book slipped from his hands as he approached the snake, which was now lying motionless on the floor. Connor frowned. Why was it motionless? Had he killed it?

He shrugged. Honestly, he couldn't have cared less about the wretched thing. How on earth had it managed to make its way into his bed? They lived on the second floor, for Merlin's beard! In the middle of London, not the countryside! So what was this snake doing in his bedroom?

He poked the thing with his foot, cautiously. When it did not move, Connor dared to kneel next to it in order to take a closer look. Anyone can imagine the boy's surprise when, at a close up, he could very well distinguish a white tag fixed to the snake. Frowning, Connor leant closer to read it.

'Son of a...'

-

Darla had just gotten home after a long and tiresome day – well, night – at the hotel. After shutting the door behind her, she dropped her purse on a chair and began rubbing her feet. God, what a hellish night it had been. One of the hotel guests had been dumb enough to fall asleep while he was smoking, setting the room on fire as a consequence. Nobody had been hurt, fortunately, but it had caused quite some mayhem and panic among the other guests and employees. Darla not only had to deal with the annoyed firemen, her even more annoyed boss and the bloodsucking guys from the insurance company, but also try to calm down everybody, as hysteria seemed to have spread like an infectious disease. Darla closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, her gaze fell on a certain Sirius Black, who was sprawled on her couch watching TV. Watching a very loud TV. Her look soon turned into a glare.

'May I know,' she hissed, 'the reason you're watching TV so loudly when the children are supposed to be asleep?'

Sirius winced, noting for the first time she was there. He went some shades paler, but to his credit he didn't avert her eyes.

'The boy's are already asleep. I bet they can't even hear it from their bedrooms...'

Before Darla could make a snide remark, she heard a door hitting a wall and turned to look in direction of the corridor. To her utter shock, she saw Connor standing there, in his striped green pyjamas that were a little too short for him already, with an absolutely murderous look on his face.

'Connor, what's wrong...?'

Without even sparing a glance in her direction, Connor glared at Sirius, who'd half risen from his seat and had gone completely pale all of a sudden. What the...?

Connor strode towards Sirius, pointing at him with one trembling finger and clutching something greenish in his other hand. He was white from rage and his eyes were flashing with anger.

'_You!_' Connor's hiss was almost as deadly as Darla's. 'You treacherous, lying, resentful bastard...'

'Connor! Mind your language!'

The boy winced, suddenly becoming aware of his mother's presence. For a moment he was at a loss of words, but then his gaze fell on Sirius again and he recovered his inspiration.

'Lunatic, stupid, moronic whelp,' he exclaimed, fuming. 'You said you didn't care, didn't you, and at the first chance you got...'

Darla turned round, hands on her hips, and scowled most dangerously at Sirius.

'Black, what on earth have you done to my son?'

The man's eyes widened, then his terrified expression was replaced with an indignant one.

'Nothing! Honestly, got no idea what he's barking about...'

'_This!_ This is what I'm talking about!' Connor roared, jerking what seemed to be – were her eyes deceiving her? – some sort of small snake. How on earth had a snake entered the house...? Oh. Of course.

'It says _Zonko's_, on the tag. Who else could have bought this? Not Harry, who's never been to Hogsmeade, neither Spike or my mum so unless you're cheeky enough to accuse Severus, you put this damned thing in my bed!'

Darla's tone dropped a couple of octaves.

'_What_ have you done to my child, Black?'

Finally deciding that playing innocent wouldn't work, Sirius waved a dismissive hand.

'Nothing, really! It's just something I got in a joke shop – Hogwarts students go there all the time, honestly I don't know what the whole fuss is about. It was just a prank.'

'A prank? _A prank_? You nearly gave me a heart-attack, wanker!'

As she looked from the affronted adult to the infuriated child, Darla realised this was going to be an even longer night than she would have expected.

-

The following day, the atmosphere at the flat was a little... tense, for lack of a better word. Connor was still furious at Sirius' trick, whereas the man complained about the boy's lack of humour sense. Harry tried his best to remain neutral and Darla, after scolding both Sirius and Connor for their childish behaviour, had given up on the matter. She felt too tired to try anything else. When Dumbledore had asked her for a favour, she hadn't thought it would involve taking care of three children instead of two.

However, that afternoon Sirius had a brilliant idea to make Connor's ill feelings dissipate: he suggested a visit to an amusement park. Even though it was Muggle entertainment, clearly below what he was used to, Connor adored going to the amusement park and getting into the most dangerous and scary games. He never let a chance of going pass... even when it meant swallowing his pride.

Sirius, Darla was relieved to see, seemed a little ashamed over his previous behaviour and, even though he hadn't explicitly said he was sorry, made an effort to make up things with Connor. As the boy was determinadly ignoring Sirius, the man, after a moment's hesitation, approached him, his head held high, and offered to accompany Harry and him to the amusement park. Connor took a moment longer than necessary to lie down his book and spare Black a considering glance. Sirius ruffled his hair with one hand, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

'You're not still mad at the Zonko's snake thing, are you? 'Cause it was just a silly joke – didn't mean to scare you or anything...'

Connor contemplated Sirius a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes cold and detached. However, soon warmth washed over his face.

''Course not.' The boy waved a dismissive hand, and then his eyes were alight with expectation. 'So... when would we be going to the park...?'

Lucky thing, Darla reflected, that Connor wasn't the resentful type like Severus. It would have made the atmosphere at home rather stressful. She smiled proudly. Hers was a sensible boy. He wouldn't hold a grudge at Black's idiocy.

Later on, Darla would idly wonder if all mothers had such a delusional vision of their children.

-

'He's such a wanker,' Connor hissed to the phone. 'He thinks he's so cool, playing tricks on me as if he were one of the Weasley twins... What does he think he's playing at? For Merlin's beard, he's about Severus' age, he is so _old_...'

Connor heard a ill-concealed snigger in the other end of the line.

'Seems to me that Black's got the Peter Pan Syndrome of never growing up, huh?'

Connor snorted. 'If by that you mean he's a moron who hasn't realised he's closer to hitting thirty than twelve,' he drawled, with the horrified shock of one still young enough to see "thirty" as a century, 'then yes, he has. Honestly, Spike! Can't he just act like an adult? Not even Harry's that childish, and he's a full year younger than me... I bet the reason he put that... that gross fake snake in my bed was because he's still angry 'cause I called Severus for help that day... like I didn't have good reason to do so, when all he'd managed to do was brandish his useless wand like a dork!'

This time, Spike didn't bother to conceal his laughter.

'He did put on quite a show, didn't he?'

Connor was too bad-tempered to laugh. 'And he dared to tell me he wasn't mad at me anymore... that it was just an innocent joke... but I'm not stupid. I know perfectly well he was looking for a petty revenge!'

'Revenge, even if it is petty, can be sweet all the same,' Spike said softly. Connor frowned, his curiosity piqued.

'What do you have in mind?'

Connor thought he could almost see Spike's broadening smirk.

'Well, I'm sure you and me can think of somethin'...'

-

Darla was surprised when Spike unexpectadly came for a visit one evening, but thought nothing of it. Had she seen the mischievious glance he and Connor exchanged, or the way he surreptitiously showed the boy something hidden in his inner pocket, she might have thought otherwise.

Spike, however, had the perfect excuse to conceal the real motives behind his visit: he'd gotten a second-hand karaoke machine and wanted to test it, "but if I wanted to sing on my own I could do it in the shower, thank you very much."

They tested the machine, which worked better than expected, in turns. Connor and Harry made an attempt at 'Help' by The Beatles. Connor would never be a great singer but he managed to perform reasonably well, whereas Harry was too shy to be properly heard.

Spike predictably chose the Sex Pistols. Darla had to admit he was a great singer. He could even have done it professionally. Of course, she would not tell him that. Spike was already quite vain about his own merits.

After Darla's own performance, Sirius thought of singing 'A little less conversation' by none other than Elvis Presley. They all laughed until their ribs ached at his superb imitation of the mythical dance, which had been Sirius' intention all along.

However, there was another reason they felt their ribs cracking with repressed laughter, why Darla and Spike avoided each other's gaze, why Connor's lips trembled and why Harry's cheeks were flushed. Oblivious to all this, Sirius brightly asked:

'So? Did you like it?'

Words failed Darla, but one could always count on Spike.

'You know what, Black? You sing almost as well as Connor's old man.'

At this comment, Connor put a fist into his mouth to prevent himself from cackling whereas Darla sought refuge behind Spike. At first, Sirius smiled, clueless, until he no longer could take Connor's and Darla's ill-concealed laughter as a praise. Somewhat offended, he rose from the chair he'd sunk into after the energic dance and stiffly announced he would take a shower. At his words both Connor and Spike jolted, exchanging a mischievious glance, but Darla was too busy suffocating her own hilarity to see it.

'Who's up for a game of Pictionary?'

Darla noted, nothing short of perplexed, that both Spike and Connor were playing dreadfully, which was weird as Connor adored that game. That evening, though, his attention seemed to be elsewhere as well as Spike's, and he was constantly darting glances at the bathroom's door. Darla frowned and said nothing, certain that she would soon find out what those two were up to.

And sure she did.

The noise of water splattering in the bathroom stopped, marking the end of Black's shower and an increase of Connor's evident anxiety, whereas Spike, a little more subtly, caressed the contents of his inner pocket. Darla and Harry stopped playing to watch them. None of them knew what was going on, none of them asked. Instead, they waited in silence as Connor's eyes twinkled and Spike smirked. Then...

'ANGEL!'

The four of them jumped and Darla was certain she would have had a heart attack had her heart been beating in the first place. Angel? Why would Black scream Angel's name...?

The bathroom's door flew open to reaveal the looming, menacing form of one very pissed off Sirius Black. Without muttering a word, he strode towards them, splattering water all the way down the hall, until he came to a halt in front of Connor, who didn't lower his gaze.

'Angel, you will pay for this.'

Startled for a moment at the discovery that 'Angel' was none other than Connor, Darla did not question herself for a moment why Black was claiming he would get revenge at Connor or what the boy could have possibly done. They didn't have to wonder for long, though.

The first thing Darla noted about Black's appearance was that he looked very mad. The second, that he hadn't dressed himself properly yet, wearing only a pair of trousers. The third was that his normally long, sleek black hair had suddenly turned...

'Turquoise? Sirius, why is your hair...,' Harry inquired, until dawning comprehension was shown on his face. 'Ohhhh...'

He could say no more, as in that moment the very familiar, very irritating sound of a camera flash was heard. Oh, no...

Sirius' head turned, his eyes widening in rage, and Spike seized his chance to take at least three more pictures. So that was what Spike had been hiding: a small, modern Japanese camera.

There was sudden pandemonioum. Roaring with fury, Sirius tried to snatch the camera from Spike's hands, but the vampire merely laughed and ran in circles around him, outside his reach, never stopping to take pictures of Sirius' now laughable hair. Finally getting tired, Sirius rounded on Connor instead.

'You little demon, I should have known better than to trust you...'

'Black, stop accusing my son. You can't know for certain it was him.'

The man's eyes flashed with anger.

'I can't? Darla, in case you haven't noticed, no Muggle dye can turn black hair into bright turquoise. This was done by magic, by a Colour-Changing Potion surreptitiously slipped into my shampoo!'

Darla could not deny Black had a point and she frowned when she remembered that Potions was Connor's best subject. Before she could come up with something to say, though, they heard Harry's shy voice:

'You know, Sirius, it doesn't look so bad. It... it matches your eyes,' he finished somewhat lamely. Everyone stared at him.

'His eyes are grey, Scarface.'

Harry looked crestfallen. 'Well... yeah, but it suits him all the same.'

A silence followed Harry's feeble attempt to make peace, until it was broken by the sound of Spike's camera.

'Son of a b-'

'No cursing in my house, Black!'

He stared at her, incredulous. Then he grabbed a strand of infuriating turquoise hair and exclaimed:

'Look what they've done to my hair, Darla! It's, it's...'

'Turquoise?'

Sirius glared at Connor's broadening grin.

'You'll see, Angel, when I get back at you...'

'Black, don't you dare threaten my child...'

'Sirius, you fully deserved it for being such a wanker...'

'STOP!'

Darla's bellow got the effect she had been looking for: everyone fell silent. She scowled and the other four took a step backwards.

'Black, stop both whinning like a child and threatening my son or not even your mother will recognize you when I'm done with you. Connor, stop cursing or you'll be grounded until you turn twenty-five. Spike, put that damned camera away and get out of my sight, 'cause I'm certain it was you who put this ridiculous idea in Connor's head. Harry –' The boy's eyes widened in fear but he did not flinch. 'Please, dear, bring me a glass of water, would you?'

Harry did so and Darla drank its contents in one gulp. Then she turned to glare at the three miscreants, one at a time.

'Spike, take that camera and go now.'

'Darla, you have no proof –'

'I said _now_, Spike.'

Reluctantly he left, with one last sympathetic glance at Connor.

'See you later, Pigeon!'

Connor looked a little crestfallen when his partner in crime disappeared through the door, but to give the boy some credit he didn't look down once. Darla placed her hands on her hips.

'So, can you come up with a way to fix it or should I call Severus?'

At these words, both Sirius and Connor paled.

'Don't you dare call Snape when I look like this...'

'Mum, really, it's not necessary to call Severus, I know a potion that can fix this...'

Darla turned to eye her only son. 'Do you?'

The boy nodded eagerly. 'It's a simple potion. All I need is to buy some ingredients at Diagon Alley...'

'Like hell I'll use anything concocted by _you_,' Sirius snarled. 'I'll go to Diagon Alley and prepare the potion myself.'

Connor shrugged.

'If you remember how to brew it and what is the precise quantity of each ingredient, be my guest.'

Sirius paled. Evidently he didn't know, or didn't remember, as much about Potions as Connor did. Darla rolled her eyes.

'We all are going to Diagon Alley, and I don't want to hear another comment about it. Understood?'

'Yay!'

Everyone turned to stare at Harry, thunderstruck. The boy's cheeks reddened a little.

'It's just that I wanted to see it again...'

-

After Black had dressed properly and hidden his clownish hair under a baseball cap, they were ready to go. To Darla's initial surprise, Sirius had given Harry a cap too. It took her a moment to understand that he didn't do so to feel less ridiculous but because he didn't want Harry's scar to drag unwanted attention. She had to give the man some credit, after all.

In spite of herself, Darla felt impressed by Diagon Alley. Many years ago she had visited the darker alter ego of this street, Knockturn Alley, on an assigment for the Master, but this was very different. Dozens and dozens of witches and wizards, all dressed in colourful robes and wearing pointy hats, wandered around the streets, stopping in small groups of twos or threes to examine the shop windows or to chat with their acquaitances. Magnific globes of the moon and self-revolving cauldrons were displayed, barrels with bats wings and unicorn horns, broomsticks and robes... All of this caught Darla's attention as she eyed it all, amazed. She couldn't help noticing, though, that some people stared at them and she guessed they were all a little out of place there, with their normal clothes. She tried her best to look as if she was very used to everything magical and as if nothing could surprise her. She noted that Connor walked with the air of one whom has seen something many times already, whereas Harry observed all in awe. Sirius, on the other hand, walked in long strides with his purpouse clear in mind.

Effectively, Sirius headed to the smelly apothecary's at once and, after Connor had recited to him all the necessary ingredients, he'd entered the shop and left them behind. The three of them waited outside, Darla and Harry examining everything with curiosity, Connor scanning the crowd for a recognizable face.

'Hey, Angel!'

The three of them jumped and turned. Darla idly wondered when she would get used to hearing her son's surname without thinking of his father.

Two boys a little taller and older than Connor were waving their hands at him. Darla blinked, thinking at first that she was seeing double but no: the boys were exactly alike, from their mop of red hair to the countless freckles on their faces. Twins, obviously. _Unless wizards have developed clones as well._

Connor's face lit up and he turned to Harry and grabbed him by the arm.

'Those are the Weasley twins, Harry! C'mon, I'll introduce you to them.' Connor looked at her, excitement palpable on his face at the chance of speaking to older, more popular boys. 'Mum, we'll be back in a couple of minutes.'

Darla first shot an eloquent glance at Harry, then a warning look at Connor. The boy frowned a moment, until comprehension shone in his eyes and he shook his head imperceptly. Darla smiled.

'Go, Connor. I'm sure Harry'll be delighted to meet new people.'

Grinning, Connor dragged Harry towards the twins and Darla could hear him saying:

'Hi! Look, this is my friend, Harry.' Darla waited to see whether Connor would mention his surname or not. 'He's entering Hogwarts this year.'

_That's my boy._

The twins eyed Harry, but the baseball cap concealed his scar.

'Like Ronniekins,' said one of them.

'Our baby brother,' the other one added, at the boys' look of incomprehension.

'So, which House will you go into?' One of the boys asked Harry. He shrugged.

'Dunno. Which House are you in?'

'The best: Gryffindor. Don't believe anyone who tells you otherwise, particularly those treacherous Slytherins.'

'Talking about Slytherins...' the other twin intervened, 'we should get those Filibuster's Fireworks before Mum notices...'

'What are you planning to do with them,' Connor asked eagerly. The twins merely exchanged a mysterious look.

'Ah, we can't tell you that. So, what are you doing here? Last minute shopping?'

'Nope,' Harry replied. 'My godfather's hair turned er... turquoise and he's getting the things to put it right again.'

The twins frowned. 'How did it turn turquoise?' both asked in unison. Connor shrugged.

'Dunno. Might have something to do with the Colour-Changing Potion I accidentaly slipped in his shampoo...'

As Connor beamed at the older boys' evident admiration, Darla rolled her eyes.

_Boys._

'Are those two yours, dear?'

Darla winced . Standing next to her, also watching the quartet of boys, was a plump, short red-haired woman who was unmistakably the twins' mother. She was carrying many bags and parcels, a very tired expression on her face.

'Oh, no. Just the taller one, the other is a friend of my son,' Darla replied. The woman looked from Connor to Darla, nodding in acknowledgement.

'He does look like you. The red-haired ones are mine, of course. I'm just telling you, so in the case they start bothering your boy, you know who to turn to for help.'

Darla looked at her, puzzled. 'Connor seems to worship them.'

The woman sighed. 'Oh, they're very popular at school, that's for sure. But they're getting in trouble all the time... You wouldn't believe the number of letters I have received from their teachers because of their misbehaviour...'

Darla smiled sympathetically. 'I guess that having two kids to look after at the same time must be hard,' she said, wondering what she would have done had Connor had a double. It was hard enough to take care of him as it was, sharing custody and all, she couldn't even imagine what she would have done with troublemaking twins.

The twins' mother shook her head.

'Believe me, dear, I never had so much trouble with the other five put together...'

Darla's jaw almost fell open in shock.

'The other five?'

'Oh, yes. I've got six boys and a small girl.' The woman cast her a knowing look. 'You just have one, don't you?' Darla nodded, mystified. How did this short woman deal with seven children all at once? Did she have a Maria Von Trapp complex or what? 'The hardest thing is when Christmas draws closer, because I always knit a jumper for each one of them, and knitting eight jumpers at the same time is no walk around the park...'

-

Peace seemed to have returned to Darla's flat. Sirius' fury vanished when he realised that he would need Connor's help to brew the potion that would return his hair to its natural state. The boy, on the other hand, was such in a good mood both for getting back at Sirius and for showing his ability at playing pranks to the Weasley twins, that he had forgotten any resentment he could have felt towards Sirius and was eager to help him. Both of them worked peacefully in the brewing of the potion, even making jokes. Harry just looked relieved that the tension had finally been erased.

Darla, though, was very withdrawn since the visit to Diagon Alley. She had barely spoken a word since they had returned from the apothecary's, instead, she had sat on the couch and watched the three of them deal with the cauldron and the ingredients, her mind miles away from them.

Sirius was such in a good mood after his hair had gone back to normal that he offered to prepare dinner. Admittedly, most nights when they didn't eat takeaways he was the one who cooked, as 'Darla' and 'cooking' were two words that did not match, but this time he had the decency to act as though he really wanted to cook and not like he just did it in order not to die of poisoning. Darla merely shrugged.

'You do that. God knows what can happen if I get anywhere near the kitchen.'

Sirius was puzzled by her unusually apathic state, although he opted not to comment on it. Once dinner was over and the children had sought refuge in Connor's bedroom, leaving Sirius and Darla alone – which was usually quite an awkward business, given their not so nice relationship – he was surprised to hear her inquiring, in an expressionless tone:

'Black, don't you think Connor should be removed from my custody?'

Sirius choked and nearly spluttered the table with Coke.

'_What?'_

Darla shrugged, without looking at him.

'Well, you've been here for two weeks. You should have been able to figure out by now that I'm far from an ideal mother. Isn't it egotistical for me to keep pretending I can help to raise Connor?'

Sirius stared at her, his jaw falling open for a moment. She was still avoiding his eyes, fixing her gaze on some point mid-air instead. She had tried to sound nonchalant, but her shoulders were sunken and there was a defeated look in her eyes Sirius had never seen before in this strong and powerful woman. No, she was definitely not joking. He bit his lower lip, wondering how he had gotten in this situation and, more importantly, how he would get out.

'Er, Darla... If you don't mind, could I know why are you asking me this?'

Darla placed her elbows on the table, so her face rested on her fists, looking lost in thought.

'I don't know. I guess... I guess because you're the only one here who comes from a more or less normal family, the only one who can answer me with sincerity. See, today – at Diagon Alley, while you were at the apothecary's – I started to talk to Mrs. Weasley –'

Sirius looked up, surprised. 'Weasley?'

She nodded. 'Yeah, that's right. Do you know her?'

He frowned in concentration. 'I don't think so. But I might have met her husband, Arthur – a decent bloke. One of the few decent blokes that remain in the Ministry.' He looked back at Darla. 'So, what's the problem with this Mrs. Weasley?'

'Oh, there wasn't any problem at all, she's a delightful woman. So... motherly. I guess that happens when you raise seven children.'

There was a clattering sound as Sirius nearly dropped his glass.

'Seven! How the hell did she manage to do that?'

For the first time, the flicker of a smile illuminated Darla's face. 'My thought, exactly. Not only did she raise them: she homeshooled them, knits seven sweaters for them every Christmas, is an expert cook and takes care of the house all by herself.' Darla looked shocked. 'I mean, she's like Super Mum or something.'

Sirius shrugged. 'Well, she's got magic to help her... that's something...'

She snorted. 'Magic can't help you much to deal with seven children. Sure, it does the washing up and the cleaning, but taking care of children involves more than that. And I can't see how she dealt with seven, when I can hardly do it with one!'

For the first time since he had set foot in that house, Sirius felt a wave of sympathy for the desperate petite woman sitting across from him. He could very easily relate to her feelings, as he had felt the same about Harry many times before.

'Look, Darla, all parents feel that from time to time. Many times I thought I wasn't the right person to take care of Harry – but in the end, I realised I was the only one who could do so. I know I can't be as good as James or Lily would have been, but they aren't here now. I am the only one left.' Sirius passed a hand through his hair. 'No parent is perfect, Darla, not even Mrs. Weasley with her hand-knitted sweaters and her seven children. We all just do the best we can.'

Darla looked up, a surprised glint in her clear eyes. Sirius could not blame her: he felt rather surprised by his own outburst himself. His insecurities regarding Harry were soemthing he had never confessed to anyone but Remus and Andromeda. It was so odd, talking about such an intimate subject with an almost complete stranger as Darla. However, as the woman dedicated him a faint smile, he thought that perhaps she was the only one who wouldn't laugh at his words.

A moment of silence stretched on, then Darla sighed.

'Thank you, Sirius, but I'm afraid my case is a little different. I mean, look at me.' She pointed at herself and shot him an eloquent look. 'I was never supposed to have a child. I'm not even human. What kind of mother can I be for Connor?' Darla waved her hands to show her irritation. 'I'll never be able to give him anything resembling a normal life. I won't ever be able to take him to school, I won't be able to go to his church wedding if he has one, I can't even cook a decent meal to save my unlife.' Darla shook her head gloomily. 'Every law of nature and reason should have prevented me from becoming a mother. I couldn't be more ill-equipped for the job.'

After her outburst, Darla once more hid her face in her hands. Sirius got the impression she had been bursting to say those things for a very long time. It only increased the oddity of the situation that she had chosen to burst right in front of him, of all people. Apparently Darla was thinking along the same lines. Her head rose, no signs of emotion now on her face except for the slightly sarcastic curving of her lips, as she shrugged and said, trying her best to sound nonchalant, almost managing it:

'Sorry for this, Black. I didn't mean to freak you out with the rant of a monster-mom. I think I've been just too sleep-deprived lately. Won't bother you anymore.'

'I don't think you're a monster.'

Darla, who was rising from her stool, froze. Her eyes widened as one of her eyebrows raised quizzically. Sirius waited a moment, until he realised it was him who had spoken. A short silence followed, during which they both stared at each other, stunned. Sirius didn't know why he had said that. After all, his first day in the flat he'd made fully clear what he thought of Darla's nature. However, Sirius realised that sometime along the way his way of thinking had changed. And then he remembered, through the fog of a distant memory, words pronounced by sweet Andromeda a long time ago, about mothers and children, and love and care being much more important than blood...

Sirius, throwing caution to the winds and putting his own uneasy feelings about Darla aside, made up his mind.

'Look, Darla, I do understand what you feel. Yes, I do, although my situation is different from yours,' he hastened to add, seeing that she had opened her mouth to retort. 'Let me finish, okey? Look, I know what I said when we first met. I know what vampires are. Merlin, at Hogwarts children are taught to kill vampires, we know what they are like. But... but blood is not always the most important thing to consider where a family is concerned. I have a friend who is a werewolf.' Darla opened her mouth again, but Sirius silenced her with a wave of his hand. 'Yeah, not the same, I know. But many people are as afraid of werewolves as they are of vampires, considering them to be equally monstruous. But my friend's one of the kindest, most patient people I've ever met. He's much more human than many who claim to be purebloods.' Sirius realised he was gritting his teeth and tried to relax his jaw. This chat was getting a little personal.

Darla, who had sunk again in her stool, frowned. 'I appreciate your words, Sirius, but I can't see how this relates to...'

'It does, just let me finish. See, I thought you were a monster... but I've been proved wrong. And the person who proved me wrong was Connor himself. I've seen the way he acts around you, Darla. When he tells a joke, he looks at you first to see if you're laughing; when he feels down, he seeks your arms for comfort; when he needs help you're the one he turns to. He looks at you as if you were perfection incarnated...'

'The way every child looks at his mother, Sirius, no matter how faulty she is,' Darla replied softly. He shook his head.

'No, Darla. Not every child.' He hesitated a moment. What was going in his mind was far too personal to share with an almost complete stranger like Darla, with whom he didn't even get along. However, she had been totally honest with him when she'd exposed her innermost fears and worries. She deserved the same honesty from him.

'Not all children think their mothers are perfect. Not all children turn to their mothers when they feel sad, when they are scared, when they have a problem. Not all children can see their mothers as a source of help or comfort. Darla, you have no idea of how rare your bond with Connor is. Not many families share it.' Sirius shook his head, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips. 'Merlin knows mine didn't. See, Darla, my family was very proud to say that there were no half-bloods or half-breeds among our lineage. That we were all fully magical, fully human, absolutely normal. My mother was, I guess, biologically human... but she was the most cold-hearted being I had the misfortune to meet. She had no love for her children, although my brother at least caused her some pride. She lived out of spite, hurting and humiliating all those around her. No one would have thought of seeking her comfort: actually, my brother and I used to avoid her as much as we could. In the end, I couldn't stand her anymore and I ran away from my home at sixteen, hoping I wouldn't have to see her ever again.'

Darla was wide-eyed, surprised at his confession. Sirius, though, felt oddly liberated. It was a relief not to pretend he had had the perfect childhood, the Ingalls-loving family, a relief to talk about it with someone that, no matter whether they could stand each other or not, would not judge him for it. After all, Darla had seen much worse things than an unloving mother.

'Whatever I might have thought of you when we first met, Darla, I can say Connor thinks you're a terrific mother. And who's better to judge but him?'

Darla said nothing for a moment. Sirius could not see the expression on her face, as her eyes were fixed on her lap. Suddenly, he feared he had said too much. After all, who was he to give her advice? They weren't friends, they weren't family, there was no real trust between them. She had every right to feel offended at his, now he realised it, paternalist tone. She was old enough to be his great-great grandmother, after all.

When she looked up, though, all Sirius' fears vanished. Because Darla's eyes shone with an emotion he'd never seen before, not directed at him at least: gratitude.

'Thanks, Sirius.'

She said no more: it wasn't necessary. Silence elapsed, a silence which, oddly enough, wasn't uncomfortable like silences between them usually were.

The silence did not last long, though.

'Got you, Connor!'

Darla and Sirius spun round in time to see how a massive pillow tossed by Harry impacted on the back of Connor's head. The boy slipped and nearly fell on the wooden floor of the corridor as Harry beamed in triumph, which didn't last long. Connor hastened to grab the pillow and throw it back at Harry's face.

'There's a major pillow fight going on, and nobody notified me?' exclaimed Sirius in a mockingly offended tone. Before anybody could stop him, he'd lauched forwards towards the couch, grasped two cushions and threw them with miraculous aim at Connor and Harry.

'Oh, you aren't gonna leave me out of this.'

When they saw Darla grabbing a pillow and getting ready to fire, the three of them ran like hell.

* * *

_In next Chapter, Connor will finally unveil a startling truth about his family, which will be very hard for him to deal with..._


	26. Chapter 25

**Author´s Notes: **Wow, guys, I can't believe this is it... the final chapter of "Two Single Parents". But don't worry, hopefully it won't be the end of the story... wink

Many thanks, like always, to everyone who read this fic... and especially to **Luna Moonlight Fawn** and **Sparky**, who reviewed last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: The Locked Door**

What is a secret? According to many dictionaries and to most people's belief, a secret is something that is concealed, hidden. A secret is a piece of knowledge that, for some reason or another, does not go public; on the contrary, there are people that are very keen on keeping it silent. It is a piece of knowledge that must be disguised, camouflaged, that must remain unseen, undercover. The moment a secret is known by a large number of people it loses its clandestine quality to become common knowledge. For those who must keep the secret safe, that moment is their worst nightmare come true.

How do people keep a secret? By being sly, reticent, secretive. By acting surreptitiously, stealthily; by disguising the truth... or telling blatant lies.

And how can a secret be exposed? By many ways. Someone who is supposed to keep his or her mouth shut says more than is convenient; somebody's suspicions are raised; an investigation is started...

Or simply by zapping through TV channels one dull Saturday morning, when all the house is quiet and boring. Simply by hearing what wasn't supposed to be heard, simply by feeling that curiosity has been piqued, simply by paying a little bit of attention.

Admittedly, Connor never thought he would unveil the greatest mystery of his life by watching Discovery Health, though.

One Saturday morning, the boys were bored to death. Darla was, needless to say, sleeping soundly, whereas Sirius had left the house early to keep searching for their future home. The children had tried every more or less silent game they could play without waking Darla up, but soon they had run out of them. Defeated, they finally had resorted to the TV, hoping that they would find something to entertain their dull spirits.

However, that morning the TV was highly uncooperative. There were cartoons, of course, but both Harry and Connor were reaching that age in which the Looney Tunes weren't as funny as they had been just a few months back. Besides, they had already watched all the episodes, and there was a limited number of times you could laugh of the same old joke.

The other channels weren't any better. Evidently, whomever came up with the TV timetable considered that nobody in his right mind would watch TV at such an early time on a Saturday, so there was no programme worthy watching. Fed up, Connor tossed the remote control to Harry.

'Do with it whatever you want.'

Harry began zapping but nothing remotely decent was on. He reached the documentary channels, which he hastened to change.

'_Today we will talk about a most uncommon disease, which is known as XP but it is indeed called...'_

Connor snatched the control from his hand so fast that Harry didn't have time to flinch.

'Let's leave this on.'

'But, Connor, this is Discovery Health...'

Connor paid him no attention: he was listening, transfixed, to what a bald man in a white robe was saying about an illness Harry hadn't heard about in his entire life. This piqued his curiosity, making him listen to the doctor more attentively. Soon he began to suspect why Connor could feel so interested on what the man had to say.

---

'I don't get it.'

The sound of Connor's footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he paced around the room. Harry's gaze followed his friend's movements until he became dizzy and had to look elsewhere.

'Let's recap,' he suggested. 'Your mum told you she got this illness called XP or something, right?' Connor, without interrupting his pacing, nodded. 'But she shows none of the symptoms she should, does she?'

Connor came to a halt. 'Exactly! How can she have the same sickness that those people and share none of their symptoms?'

'But she does share at least one symptom,' Harry interjected. 'She's sun-allergic.'

Connor snorted.

'Yeah, and what about all the other symptoms? The terrible eyesight, the skin-related problems, all the visits they had to make to the hospital...? You heard what that doctor said. No one with XP can lead a fully normal life.' He resumed his pacing. As Connor's bed, where Harry was sitting, was in the middle of the room, the boy had a hard time following his friend's movements without getting a headache.

'She's got amazing eyesight. She can even read in the dark,' Connor went on. 'She's never sick, not even a headache. She doesn't feel weak, either. Merlin, sometimes I think she's stronger than Sirius.'

Connor smiled sardonically. Harry had to admit that he could possibly be right. Just the other day Darla had lifted a trunk as if it had been weightless, whereas Sirius could hardly move it.

'I think she's never been to a hospital, and people with XP have to go to the doctor like, all the time!'

Harry shrugged. 'Perhaps she goes to the doctor when you aren't visiting her. After all, you aren't here all the time.'

Connor shook his head. 'I've spent an entire month here at a time. She should have gone to the doctor sometime. Why would she keep it from me? It's not like I didn't know she's sick, she told me herself.'

Harry bit his lower lip, confused.

'Dunno. She might not want to worry you.'

In spite of his own words, Harry himself was starting to feel some doubts. Connor was right: Darla showed none of the supposed symptoms. She didn't come across as somebody who suffered from an uncommon and dangerous disease. She didn't look sick at all.

Connor came to a halt, his brow furrowed. Harry watched him. His friend seemed to be making up his mind about something. He waited.

'There's something weird going on here...' Connor whispered, absent-midedly. Suddenly, he looked up and his eyes locked with Harry's. 'Are you up to find out what it is?'

-

The boys were unusually quiet that day, but the adults were too engrossed in their own business to notice. Sirius had finally found what seemed like a suitable house for him and Harry, in addition to an interesting job offer. Finally things appeared to be taking a straight course and his good mood wasn't clouded by the little enthusiasm Harry managed to show at the prospect of moving yet again. Darla, on the other hand, had her mind filled with facts and figures of the hotel where she worked and the consequences raised after the fire. Angel used to say that lawyers were the most bloodsucking creatures on earth, surpassing vampires, but Darla was certain he had never met the guys that worked for the hotel's insurance company. The nerve of them to assume it was the hotel's fault for allowing clients to smoke in their rooms!

Harry didn't like the idea of moving that much. He felt rather comfortable where he was with Darla, who acted like the mother he'd never had, and Connor, the first friend he'd had in a long time. Of course he said none of this to Sirius, who looked very impatient to get a house of their own, this time without Muggle limitations.

Apart from this, Harry could not pay proper attention to Sirius' description of the house because he was too distracted by the thought of what Connor and him were planning to do next. Admittedly, Harry had no idea what the other boy had in mind: Connor had a very mysterious air that day, but he had assured Harry they would get to the bottom of Darla's secret. Harry didn't consider himself as a nosy person, although he had to admit that, when his curiosity was piqued, he could not rest until the mystery was solved. And this seemed to be quite the mystery...

After dinnertime, the boys saw their chance: Darla had gone out to work, whereas Sirius was locked in the room he shared with Harry, preparing himself mentally for the job interview that awaited him the following day... whatever that meant. Either way, the children soon found they had the coast clear... and they wasted no time to seize their chance.

Connor and Harry, who were pretending to watch TV, waited in expectant silence until they were certain Sirius would not come out for his room for a while. Connor was the first to get to his feet, in slow, calculated movements. Harry imitated him, but when he picked up the remote control to turn off the TV Connor hastened to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

'Don't. It's better if he thinks we're busy.'

Harry nodded and left the control on the coffee table. He felt rather clueless at what to do next, so for once he merely let Connor lead him. The older boy stood still for a moment, as though he needed reassurement that nobody was going to pop up unexpectedly, ruining their plans. When none of this happened, he seemed to make up his mind and, with a resolved expression on his face, he headed towards the kitchen. Harry hastened to follow him, intrigued, wondering what in the kitchen could help them in their quest. Shouldn't they just check Darla's medical records? However, as this was a matter that only concerned Connor, he decided to trust in his judgement.

To Harry's surprise, Connor came to a halt when he reached the sink. He kneeled and turned towards Harry.

'Now, how many people do you know that lock their cupboards,' he said, as his finger poked a small lock on the cupboard under the sink door. Trying not to think of the time he had spent living in a cupboard, Harry shrugged.

'Dunno. Is it always locked?'

Connor nodded, his hair getting in his eyes. 'Ever since Mum moved here. And she's never told my why.'

Harry frowned. That was weird. 'Hmm... perhaps she kept cleaning products there that could be toxic... you know, toxic things that perhaps she feared you would swallow or something. Sirius used to keep them on the topmost shelf.'

Connor tilted his head to one side, as with one impatient movement of his hand he pushed the hair away from his face.

'Interesting theory. Except for one little thing...' Connor's hand rested a moment on the knob of the cupboard that was next to the locked one, making the door swing open smoothly. This revealed the presence of several bottles of all shapes and sizes, which Harry promptly recognised as cleaning products. That definitely shot down his theory, not that he'd ever truly believed it.

Connor got closer to the cupboard, his brow furrowing in concentration.

'Don't you hear a buzz?'

Harry leant forward and pressed his ear against the wooden door.

'Yeah. It sounds electrical. Like... a fridge, maybe,' he suggested as he turned to look at Connor.

Connor raised an eyebrow, unknowingly imitating his mother.

'Only one way to find out.'

To Harry's amazement, he pulled out from his back pocket a hairpin. Harry eyed it, skeptically.

'Does that trick really work?'

'Of course,' Connor stated, proudly. 'Spike taught me.'

Connor proceeded to thrust the hairpin into the lock and began to turn it both sides, his ear pressed against the door.

'One click here... other click there... and there we are!'

With a proud smile lighting up his face, Connor pulled open the door in triumph. Both he and Harry bent over to see what mystery the door yielded... only to be disappointed when their eyes found yet another door. This one, though, was white and metallic. It looked exactly like a...

'Fridge. Or mini-fridge. Turned out you were right after all, Harry.' Connor bit his lower lip. 'But what on earth does she keep in it?'

'Has she forbidden you to eat sweets lately?'

Connor snorted. 'For some reason, I doubt that's why she keeps this thing locked.' He inhaled deeply. 'Well... here we go.'

Their faces glowed as the white-ish light poured from the fridge when Connor pulled open the door. Holding their breaths, both boys moved forwards to examine its contents... and just as quickly they yelped, jumping backwards.

'Bloody hell,' Connor exclaimed, nothing short of shocked, as they knocked over a stool in their hurry to get away from the fridge and its sinister contents. Harry thought that his choice of words couldn't have been more accurate, given the nature of what they'd just seen.

Panting, Connor managed to regain a sitting position. Then, walking on his knees, he moved closer to the fridge, in the same tentative and cautious way one would approach a sleeping dragon. Mustering up all of his courage, Harry peered over his friend's shoulder.

There was no mistake, no trick of the light, no deceiving of their eyes: the mini-fridge contained no less than a dozen small plastic bags, filled with a scarlet, thick liquid that clearly resembled (but, how could it be possible...?) ... blood. Both children stared at them, their wide-open eyes reflecting the eerie brightness that made the blood look like melted ruby. For a moment, Harry's mind was completely blank. He could do nothing but stare at the transparent bags, all with its small, white labels, which reminded him of a lab or a hospital, like the one Harry had visited when a nurse had taken a blood sample from him with a syringe. _Wait a second..._

'I got it!' he exclaimed. Connor started and turned to face him, bewildered.

'What do you got?'

'Why your mum keeps these things! Can't you see, Connor? She must have some blood-related illness, so she needs transfusions.'

Harry was very pleased with himself for finding such a logical and plausible explanation that, to his eyes, had not a single flaw... but somehow his self-confidence wavered when he saw the look of utter incomprehension on Connor's face. Harry's spirits deflated.

'You don't think I'm right, do you?'

'Well,' Connor replied, still looking confused, 'I might, but the truth is I don't have a clue of what a tranfession...'

'Transfusion.'

'...is. Is it a Muggle term?'

Connor often surprised Harry with his ignorance of perfectly normal things, just as it amused Connor how many things about the Wizarding world Harry had never heard about.

Harry proceeded to explain to his friend what a blood transfusion was, although the base of his knowledge consisted of Hollywood films, which hardly could be considered as a reliable source of information. However, there was nobody in the room with enough medical knowledge to contradict him, so Connor inmediately accepted his words as fact, although he looked even more horrified than before.

'Do Muggles really put other people's blood in their veins? How gross is that?'

On the other hand, when Harry mentioned there were blood banks, Connor roared with laughter.

'Blood banks? You mean, they just trade it as if it were gold or something?'

When Sirius finally came out of his room, he looked rather surprised at finding Connor and Harry rolling with laughter on the kitchen's cold floor... next to a cupboard that had previously been closed shut by a cautious Connor, of course.

-

No matter how strange Connor found Harry's explanation, it did calm him down a little. After all, it made perfect sense now that his mother would keep that cupboard locked, and also that she hadn't said anything about it. She probably thought he would freak out, which he had done, by the way, or that given his magical upbringing he wouldn't understand. It was silly, really, because it would only have taken two minutes of her time to explain everything to Connor, but possibly she didn't like talking about her illness when her son came to visit. It was perfectly reasonable and natural.

Except that Connor didn't completely buy it. It just didn't make sense. The doctors on that TV show had said nothing about blood transfusions. And some of the other symptoms did not match, like the impossibility to stand fluorescent lights for long that people with XP faced. In fact, now he came to think of it, his mother's kitchen was illuminated by those kind of lights. What was she playing at?

But maybe she had lied about XP and indeed had another disease. But why would she lie about it? Perhaps she had a very dangerous and fatal disease and didn't want to worry him... but wasn't XP serious enough? On the other hand, if she suffered from such terrible illness, shouldn't she go more often to the doctor? Connor had never heard that his mother had to go to a hospital in seven years. Now he came to think of it, Connor hadn't a clue of what a Muggle hospital looked like.

Lastly, what bothered Connor the most was how _healthy_ his mother seemed. Apart from her pallid features and her lack of appetite (he never saw her eating much, she rarely did more than revolve her food), she was in perfect health. She didn't have headaches, she never felt dizzy, she never threw up and he'd never seen her show any signs of weakness. If it hadn't been for the fact she couldn't step into the sun, Connor would never have thought there was something wrong with his mother.

But there was and Connor was sick of being treated like a small child. He had a right to know what was going on, so he made up his mind to confront his mother as soon as she returned from work. It was time for the truth to be uncovered.

Alas, there were still a couple of hours left until she came back home. Connor, who wasn't in the mood to join Sirius and Harry in a game of Monopoly, opted instead to read. Comfortably sprawled on his bed as he was, Connor merely picked up the book that was closest to his reach. It turned out to be his brand new Defence Against the Dark Arts book, _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. Connor thought that the title sounded promising, maybe this year they would see some real magic during those lessons.

Without bothering to take a look at the index, he merely flipped through the pages until one heading caught his interest.

_Vampires._

Years later Connor would wonder what had made him read that particular chapter of the book on that particular night. Coincidence? Was he destined to find out the truth? Did his subconcious already suspect what was going on? Or was it just that the words pronounced by that poor woman with XP interviewed in Discovery Health were still echoing in his mind? _"People don't understand the true nature of our disease, they call us _vampires_..."_

Either way, he began to read the fateful chapter only half-interested on what the author had to say on the subject, as he was more concerned in his upcoming confrontation with his mother. However, soon enough he was wide-eyed as the knuckles of the hands that held the book had turned white.

"_There are many legends and myths regarding vampires, which are the most widespread dark creatures of the Wizarding world. Some authors state that they were first originated in Eastern Europe, whereas there are others who strongly deny this argument. Even non-magical people have had many things to say on the subject throughout the centuries._

_In spite of the controversial aspects of the subject, in this volume the main fact about these creatures will be objectively covered for a further understanding of the danger they represent to our community._

_Vampires are dead corpses that are nevertheless capable of reasoning, unlike zombies and Inferi, although their main goal remains hunting their prey to drink their blood. Usually they prefer human blood, but it is known they can resort to animals' blood (preferably pigs) if proved necessary. _

_Muggles, wizards or witches can be turned into a vampire if they are bitten by one. In order to turn its victim into one of its own, a vampire has to drain its victim until he or she has almost neither blood nor life left, then forcefeed its own blood to him or her. The victim will die only to rise from the dead as a vampire some hours later._

_Muggles are more vulnerable to a vampire's attack as they have less means to repel them, therefore there are more vampires that were originally Muggles than wizards or witches. On the other hand, magical powers diminish considerably when the person is turned, reason for which not even the Darkest wizards or witches had been allured to this form of inmortal life._

_Unlike some other Dark creatures, vampires can easily pose as human beings, although there are some signs that give them away, such as: extreme paleness, low body temperature, supernatural strength, heightened senses, especially smell, sight and hearing, inability to reflect on mirrors, etc. There are also several ways of repelling or vanquishing them. They cannot stand sunlight or holy water; they run from crosses and are fatally allergic to garlic, they can be killed by beheading, fire or a wooden stake thrust across their hearts. _

_The following text will detail what must be done in case of a vampire attack. The Ministry of Magic recommends calling for an specialised squad, which is named..."_

The book slipped from Connor's now sweaty hands and hit the floor with a thump.

No way.

No way in bleeding, sodding hell.

Connor shook his head. Of course not. It was ridiculous. His mother couldn't be a vampire. She wasn't dead, for Merlin's beard! And she wasn't a blood-sucking monster, that blood was in her fridge because she needed transfusions, didn't she?

_she never eats in front of me she can't stand the smell of garlic_

As for not stepping into the sun, she had a perfectly Muggle illness that prevented her from doing so. Nothing abnormal about it, right?

_except the symptoms don't match and she doesn't look sick does she? heightened senses... supernatural strength... that _does_ match doesn't it?_

Ridiculous. Preposterous. He had to be completely nuts to even think about it. Nobody would have let him live with his mother had she been a vampire. Wouldn't she have tried to suck him dry, after all?

Besides, didn't she work with the Slayers, killing vampires?

_there are no crosses in the house, although she should know that those repel them_

_there are no mirrors either why there are no mirrors? thought maybe Muggles didn't use them, perhaps I was wrong..._

Connor firmly shook his head. To think his mother could be a vampire was the stupidest thing that could have occurred to him. Surely there was a very normal, very Muggle explanation for his mother's illness, and he would ask her as soon as she got home. Wiping the last insidious thoughts out of his mind, Connor was resolved to wait awake for his mother's return...

...but fell asleep within minutes.

-

Connor woke up with a start.

His clothes were sticking to his pale skin, which was covered with cold sweat, whereas his whole body was trembling uncontrollably. Breath came to him in pants, making him feel like he was suffocating. Still shaking, he sat up with some difficulty and remained still for several moments, his breath ragged and unsteady.

_blood, warm, deep red blood everywhere, scarlet drops falling to the floor, everything around him was red and black and cold and nauseting, a claw asphixyating his throat..._

It took him a long moment for his heart to stop beating furiously and his pulse to get to normal. Wide-eyed, his gaze swept over the room, as if he were seeking comfort from the familiar shapes of the things that filled his bedroom, which were now bathed with the greyish light of daybreak.

_Get a grip, Connor. It was just a silly nightmare._

But Connor was still quite shaken up, and what annoyed him the most was not remembering what he had dreamt, only that it had been terrifying. His feet landed on the cold floor, making a hesitant attempt to stand up, then put on his slippers. Suddenly, all around him looked unfamiliar and menacing, even though it was his own bedroom. Connor had never been an easy one to scare out, but in suddenly he didn't fancy being on his own.

_Connor, you're such a chicken._

The shadows, though, kept flickering and moving around him, resembling creepy hands of eerily long fingers, fingers that seemed just ready to close around his throat... Before he knew it, he had left his bedroom and tiptoed to his mother's. He knew he would regret it in the morning, that it would embarass him to no end (after all, he was twelve already) but in that precise moment he couldn't have cared less. All he could think of was that he had never felt a stronger urge to crawl to his mother's side.

She was sound sleep, sprawled on her bed limp and still. The curtains of her bedroom were, of course, tightly shut, but Connor's sight had gotten used to the surrounding darkness so he made his way to the bed in no time, climbed it and rested his head on her chest. He hadn't done that since he was very little, and it was really silly, but that night he needed to feel his mother's pressence, to be comforted by the sound of her breath, by the rhythmic movements of her chest going up and down...

Except that her chest wasn't moving and he couldn't hear her breath at all.

Connor froze. What on earth...?

Slowly, very slowly, he raised his head from his mother chest and turned to look at her. She was limp and still... too limp and still. Connor placed a trembling hand on her chest, then placed the other one on his own. Even though he was barely breathing by now, his chest expanded and contracted all the same, whereas his mother was as moveless as a rock or a...

_Don't. Don't even THINK of it._

Connor raised the hand that was on his mother's chest and moved it towards her nose. Theoretically, he should be feeling her breath on the back of his hand... but he wasn't feeling anything. She wasn't breathing.

_Don't be stupid, of course she's breathing. She breathes... faintly, that's it._

Perhaps he ought to check her pulse... except he had no idea how to do that. And it was silly, really. Of course there was nothing wrong with her, of course she was breathing, surely if he just called out her name she would open her eyes at once, she would sit up, and smile, and hug him, and tell him it had just been a hideous nightmare.

Except that his lips seemed to be glued. He could not call out her name. He could not just shake her to wake her up. Because if she didn't wake up, if she didn't open her eyes at once, if she didn't sit up, and hugged him, and told him he was being silly, then... then...

A mirror. He needed a mirror. Because, mirrors were useful to tell if somebody was breathing, weren't they? Connor was certain he had read somewhere that, when they couldn't tell whether someone was alive or dead, they put a mirror under his or her nose as breath, no matter how faint it was, always left traces on mirrors. Or any shiny surface, really.

There was only one drawback: there were no pocket mirrors at hand. Actually, there were no mirrors in the entire house, his mother said she had no use for them. A small voice from the back of his head nagged about why he had never found that weird, but he hastened to shush it. He had more serious things to worry about.

_The tray! That's it!_

His mother possessed a metallic tray as shiny as any mirror. That would work, wouldn't it? As smooth and soundlessly as a cat, Connor headed to the kitchen, retrieved the tray and returned to his mother's side. Barely controlling his shaking hands, he put the tray very close to his mother's face and eagerly bent down to check if there were any traces of her breath on it. Only that on the shiny surface of the tray he did not find any traces of his mother's breath... or her reflection. His eyes widening, Connor's gaze darted from his mother's head that was resting on the pillow, to the tray, where he could only see the pillow's reflection.

_unability to reflect on mirrors... cannot stand sunlight... fatally allergic to garlic..._

Letting out a scream, he jumped backwards. He dropped the tray, which fell to the floor with a clattering sound as Connor stumbled backwards and landed on his back. In an instant, his mother had shot upright in the bed, her eyes wide-open.

'Connor, what's...?' She pushed the blanket aside, as he stared at her, unable to move. 'Darling, what's wrong?' Her hair was a mess around her head, her nightdress was all wrinkled, but she was completely awake. Her clear eyes dug into his. Connor had never really noticed how pale she was. Almost traslucent.

'You... you're the one that's wrong!', he blurted out when he found his voice. 'You, you weren't breathing, you weren't moving, thought you were dead...' Connor began shaking furiously as his confusion turned into panic. 'Went for the tray to see if you were breathing, but you weren't, you didn't even _reflect_ on it...'

Frowning slightly, Darla looked down... and her gaze fell on the metallic tray. Slowly, very slowly, she kneeled and picked it up. She stared at the tray and her eyes widened. When she looked back at Connor, he saw something he didn't remember ever seeing in her eyes before: fear.

For some reason, that just drove him round the edge.

'You lied to me, didn't you,' he hissed through gritted teeth. 'You said you had XP, but you didn't, did you? 'Cause that's a Muggle disease and you aren't a Muggle, you aren't even a...' He couldn't end the sentence, he just couldn't.

'Darling, please, listen...' She took a temptative step. Connor didn't move. After hesitating a moment, she shortened the distance between them. 'Baby, try to understand... I never meant to scare you...'

She stretched out an arm to touch him, which proved to be a terrible mistake.

'DON'T TOUCH ME, MONSTER!'

He pushed her to the other side of the room with inhuman force. With a shocked look on her face, she hit the bedside table, knocking it over and smashing the lamp, in the very same moment Connor's fury shattered the window's glass.

Without waiting for her reaction, he jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room and down the hallway. Behind him, he could hear Sirius asking what on earth was going on, but he paid no attention to him: he was a full-grown wizard, he'd be capable of defending himself and Harry. Instead, he dashed to the front door, nearly tripping. He grabbed the knob and pulled... but the door, as any other front door in London, was locked. Desperately, his eyes searched for the key, which was hanging from a nail next to the door. He grabbed it and thrust it into the keyhole.

'Connor, wait!'

He hastened to turn the key twice, then pulled open the door and jumped outside just as his mother stretched out an arm to grab him. He heard a cry of pain and when he looked over his shoulder he saw why: a large, nasty-looking burn had appeared on his mother's right hand. Connor blinked, confused... until he realised he was standing in the sunlight-bathed hallway. However, there was no time to linger: Sirius, who was just wearing a pair of trousers and had his hair messier than Connor ever thought he'd see it, had just appeared from behind his mum.

'Connor,' he asked, confused. 'What's wrong?'

Connor knew he didn't have a second to spare: he turned around and broke into a run, stepping down the steps from two to two. Soon he heard Sirius calling him, then his footsteps began behind him as he pursued him.

Connor didn't bother to run down the last flight of stairs: he closed his eyes, jumped... and neatly landed on his feet. Before Sirius could even dream of catching him, Connor was lost in London's streets.

-

Spike had passed out on the couch in front of the TV, which was showing some new wannabe punk pop band blasting on MTV. The early rays of morning filtered through the thick, opaque curtains, stretching languidly towards the couch where Spike was sleeping soundly. To an onlooker, it could have seemed as though not even an earthquake would be able to wake him up. However, his eyes shot open in a sudden. Something was off.

_Knock, knock_.

Even though he was used to sleeping with the loudest rock band on, his ears were trained to catch any faint sound that was out of place, and the insistent knocking on his door was anything but faint. Spike tried to ignore it at first an go back to sleep (couldn't people understand that vampires slept during the sodding _day_?) but soon the knocking turned into furious pounding. Who the hell could be so anxious to see him at such unholy time of the morning? Soon his question was answered.

'Spike! Spike, are you there? Open up, please!'

Spike frowned. Connor? Why would Connor come to his house so early? At once, images of Darla's flat in flames or a terribly injured Connor flashed before his eyes. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the door, feeling fully awake all of a sudden.

He pulled open the door with more force than necessary, nearly tearing apart its hinges, and started at the sight of a very dishevelled and terrified-looking Connor. To Spike's shock, he was wearing some worn out pyjamas and slippers, whereas his hair was messy and he looked like he had been running at top speed all the way to his flat. But what shocked Spike the most was the look on the boy's face, as if he had just faced the Devil itself.

'Pigeon, what's wrong?'

But the boy seemed uncapable of answering, whether because he was too scared to speak or because he was trying to catch his breath. Either way, Spike decided it was not a good idea to linger on the doorstep, especially as the hallway was quickly being illuminated by sunlight. Grabbing Connor's arm more gently than he would have expected, he took the boy inside and made him sit on the couch. He sat to his side, waiting until he had stopped panting before asking what had happened.

Connor swallowed. Evidently, whatever had happened was too horrifying to speak about it easily. Finally, words seemed to blurt out of Connor's mouth, all mixed and confused, as though he could not put them in the right order. At first, Spike could not understand a thing out of the sudden flow of words that escaped the boy's mouth, until his final sentence became painfully clear:

'Mum was dead, Spike, she was dead...'

Spike winced. Had his heart been beating it would have stopped at once.

Darla, dead? It was too dreadful to be think of. Spike felt his mouth go dry. It was ironic how there had been a time when he wouldn't have cared less whether she lived or died, that he would even have felt glad, and now he felt so horrified at the idea. He'd never reflected on how much Darla's friendship meant to him now, how much her support throughout the last years had comforted him, until he realised he had lost it all. And Pigeon, little Pigeon, becoming an orphan all over again...

_Get a grip, Spike. Not the time for getting sappy._

'Connor,' he said firmly, as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, 'what happened to your mother? From the beginning.'

This time, Connor took some time to gather his ideas before letting it all came out.

'I had a nightmare, and I was scared, so I went to her bed. She was sleeping, or so I thought, but she wasn't breathing... Spike, she wasn't breathing at all.' Connor's eyes were round by shock as he looked up at him. 'She was lying there, all still and limp, and I thought that maybe her breathing was just too faint, so I went to look for the tray...'

'The tray,' Spike cut in, beffudled. Connor nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

'Yeah, the tray. It's metallic and it reflects things like a mirror. Mirrors help you to tell if somebody's breathing, I read it somewhere.'

Spike had a sudden and nasty suspicion of what followed next, but chose to let the boy continue his story without any more interruptions.

'So I picked up the tray, and went to her bedroom, and put it under her nose. Then I tried to check if there were any traces of her breath, and, and...' Connor swallowed again. Spike waited, sensing that he would not enjoy what he'd hear next.

The boy seemed to have put up some courage as he exclaimed, 'Spike, she had no reflection! No reflection at all!'

Connor started to breath raggedly as he stared at Spike, waiting for his reaction. Fearing he might hyperventilate, Spike made an attempt to calm him down.

'Pigeon, perhaps it was a trick of the light... You were sleepy and scared...'

Connor shook his head furiously.

'Spike, you don't understand because you're a Muggle, but people with no reflection can mean only one thing: they have been turned into a vampire!'

Connor stared at him, somewhat annoyed at his failure to understand the seriousness of the matter. But Spike understood, probably better than the boy. _We're so screwed._ Had Darla followed the piece of advice he'd given her ages ago, which consisted of telling Pigeon the truth, little by little, they wouldn't have found themselves in such a delicate situation. And now he was supposed to mend the damned thing. Bloody marvellous.

To his surprise, Connor's annoyance seemed to turn into nervousness.

'Spike, you... you believe me, right,' he asked, almost pleadingly. 'I mean, vampires are for real.' _Don't say._ 'I've studied them at school, I know what I'm talking about.'

''Course I believe you, kid,' he hastened to reassure him. 'OK, let's calm down, let's think 'bout this carefully...'

At these words, Connor exclaimed in a higher tone than usual:

'Spike, what are you talking about? She's a vampire, for Merlin's beard! What do you have to think about? How can you talk about this so calm...?' In the boy's clear eyes, Spike saw something he was very familiar with: suspicion. 'You knew, didn't you?' His voice was calm and silky, eeriely reminding him of Darla.

'Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, kiddo,' Spike hastened to reply. But Connor's eyes, which had been digging into his, widened, an indignant gleam flashing in them.

'_You knew!_'

Without warning, Connor jumped to his feet and launched himself towards the door. He was amazingly fast, however, Spike was way faster. In no time he was standing between the door and Connor, trying to hold back the latter.

'Gerroff me!'

'Not until you stop twistin', Pigeon.'

Shooting a furious glare at him, Connor clenched his teeth, but at least he stop struggling. After a moment, Spike released the tight grip he had on the boy's arms... only to see how the brat slipped through his arms and dashed to the opposite side of the room.

'Damn it!'

He ran after him at top speed, but this time Connor was faster: when Spike reached out an arm to grab him, Connor ran into the bathroom, spun round and slammed the door shut right on Spike's nose. Cursing, he tried to turn the knob, but Connor had foreseen that move and locked the door.

'Bloody hell, Connor, open the bleedin' door right now, or I'll...'

His voice tailed off mid-sentence. Or what? He would just knock over the door, freaking out an already quite scared twelve-year old? He sighed in frustration.

'C'mon, Pigeon, just get the damned door open...'

But if there was one thing the boy had taken after his father it was stubborness. After fifteen minutes of failed attempts at reasoning, threatening and pleading, Spike resolved it was high time to take desperate measures.

-

When she received Spike's phonecall, Darla was nearly on the verge of hysteria. Or as much on the verge of hysteria a woman with a freezing mind like hers could be. It transpired that Black hadn't managed to catch Connor in time, losing him in London's streets. And Darla, as any other mother, was already picturing all the trucks that could run over him, all the criminal gangs that could get hold of him, all the dark alleys he could get lost in... Spike abruptly stopped her frantic rant.

'Darla, Pigeon's with me.'

Her voice faltered in mid-sentence. When she next spoke, her worried tone had turned into an exasperated one.

'Why the hell didn't you tell me that?'

'I _tried_,' he protested. Darla ignored him.

'How is he? What did he say? Is he hurt? Does he know you're talking to me or...?'

'One question at a time, Darla!' She fell silent at once. Spike suppressed a tired sigh. 'He's in one piece, although quite freaked out because of you and royally pissed off at me.'

'Why? Did he find out about you as well...?'

Spike idly wondered if Darla'd let him finish telling the whole story sometime.

'No, but he suspects I knew 'bout you n'he's locked himself in the loo, refusin' to get out.'

Darla sighed at the other end of the line.

'OK, I'll be right there. Sirius can stay with Harry, he has a couple of hours left before his job interview...'

Spike was struck by a sudden inspiration.

'Bring Batman as well.'

His words were followed by a startled silence.

'Bring _who_?'

'Snape. Probably Pigeon,' he shot a cautious glance at the toilet's closed door and lowered his voice, 'will listen to him, right?'

'OK, I'll contact him.' There was yet another pause. 'Why Batman?'

Spike shrugged. 'He looks like an overgrown bat, doesn't he?'

She snorted, and he would have bet she was rolling her eyes.

'Nice to see you haven't lost your inspiration.' Suddenly her tone turned serious. 'I have really screwed it up, haven't I?.'

Spike hesitated a moment before answering, biting his lower lip.

'Well... yeah. But he'll come around.'

Darla let out a tired sigh. 'Hope you're right. Anyway, here we go...'

And she hung up the phone.

-

It had to be a record, Spike reflected, the incredibly short time it took Darla and Snape to get to his place. Without so much as a preliminary hello, Snape walked past him towards the bathroom, his black robes billowing after him, making him look like an overgrown bat more than ever. Before he could let out a chuckle at this ridiculous sight, Spike's gaze fell upon Darla, who had the most miserable look ever. Touched in spite of himself, he walked over her and placed an arm around her shoulders.

'C'mon, pet. Y'need a cup of coffee.'

He led her to the small kitchenette, from where they heard the sound of knocking and Snape's carrying voice.

'Connor, it is me, Severus. Open up at once.'

As he poured some black coffee into a yellow mug and handed it to Darla, Spike did his best to hear Connor's muffled reply.

'Is... is she there?'

Snape wisely chose to avoid the question.

'Connor, I am not going to talk through a door. Do open up.'

Spike dared to come out the kitchenette to investigate. Snape was standing in front of the closed door, looking positively annoyed. Silently, Spike walked in his direction before coming to a halt right behind the man.

'I will not repeat this again, Connor.' Snape said, his tone dropping an octave. 'I told you to open the door at once.'

It would never cease to amaze Spike the power that Snape's commanding tone held. Anyone who heard it instinctually felt compelled to follow his orders at once, because the Potions Master had a way of subtly threatening without having to raise his tone or pronounce an actual threat. He merely dropped his tone a couple of octaves and that was enough to terrify most people into doing his will. Spike doubted there were many miscreants in his class.

But Connor wasn't like most people. If there was one thing the boy had, that was a hell of a spine. The door remained closed. Frowning, Snape seemed to have decided on a different tactic as he was drawing his wand out of an inner pocket, in the very same moment the door slowly opened to reveal the face of a very pale Connor.

'You know what she is, don't you?' Connor asked, trying his best to sound calm but stammering a little. Snape nodded gravely.

'Connor, let me in. We must talk.'

For a moment it appeared as though Connor was going to refuse, but not even he was brave enough to openly defy a direct order from Snape. Reluctantly, he opened the door completely and took a couple of steps backwards. Snape walked in and Spike, although nobody had invited him, followed suit.

Connor had sat on the toilet seat, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs. His hair was covered in a thin layer of sweat and it stuck to his pallid forehead, whereas his eyes had never looked so large and dark. Spike took pity on the boy, whose whole world had crumbled in one moment. He opened his mouth to say something to comfort him, anything, but Snape, suddenly aware of his pressence, silenced him with a glare.

'Connor, I do understand that the news came as a shock to you, but it is not so simple. There are certain things you fail to comprehend.'

The boy's head jerked up, his eyes flashing with anger.

'There's nothing to comprehend, Severus! She's a bloodsucking monster, what's so complicated about that?'

Snape seemed admiringly unabashed by this outburst and remained as imperturbable as before.

'You are too young to grasp the concept of shades of grey, Connor, but you are nothing short of intelligent. You must have realised that there is more to your mother than that.'

Connor didn't answer and averted Snape's gaze, chosing to look anywhere but them. His gaze swept over the tiny room, where no possible way of escape was available, his eyes studying the few bottles lined at one side of the bathtube, then looking at the ceiling, glancing at the mirror...

Connor winced, as his eyes went from the mirror to Spike and then back to the mirror.

'You too,' he shouted, horrified. Too late Spike realised the terrible mistake he'd just made as he turned to look at the mirror, where he only saw Snape's livid face.

'Get out, _now_,' he bellowed, pushing him out of the bathroom and slamming the door right behind him.

As he pulled himself together, he saw Darla, who had popped up when she'd heard Connor's shouting. Spike gave her a half apologetic, half sheepish look.

'Guess you're not the only one who screwed it up, luv.'

-

An hour later, Darla and Spike were still waiting in the kitchen but Snape and Connor showed no signs of ending their chat any time soon. Darla had finished her second cup of coffee, but looked as depressed as when she'd arrived. Caffeine seemed not to be enough for her that day. Spike would normally have suggested whisky as a worthy alternative, but it was a little too early, even for them.

'I was so stupid,' Darla said, sounding profoundly annoyed with herself. 'If only I'd listened to you and told him the truth...'

He placed a hand on her shoulder, in a vain attempt to comfort her.

'Not your fault, luv. Well, maybe a little bit,' he added after seeing her incredulous look, 'but could've happened to anyone. Don't worry, Snape'll find a way to fix...'

His voice tailed off, though, and he felt Darla's body flinching under his touch. Standing in the doorframe, looking quite apprehensive, was Connor himself, with a quite tired-looking Snape behind him. Before Darla or Spike could react, Connor spoke in a slightly high-pitched voice.

'Severus says that you aren't like other vampires. That you aren't evil, because you got a soul and a conscience. Is that true?'

Darla glanced at Severus, whose expression remained unreadable. She then turned her eyes to her only child and replied softly:

'It is true, Connor. All of it.'

The boy bit his lower lip, thoughtful. The rest waited, figuratively holding their breaths. After a moment, his head jerked up and he locked his narrowing eyes with his mother's.

'Why didn't you tell me earlier, then? Why did you hide it?'

Slowly, Darla rose from the metallic chair she'd been sitting, circled the table and approached Connor, coming to a halt when she was at a prudent distance from him. Spike got the distinct impression that Darla moved as if she were handling a skittish, wounded animal. She bent a little, so her eyes were at the same level of her child's.

'I hid the truth because I'm silly. I wanted you to have a normal childhood... well, as normal as it could be. I wanted... I wanted you to be happy, and carefree, and not have a worry in the world. Stupid, huh?' She smiled sadly. 'I wanted all that for you, and I naïvely thought that, as long as you didn't know the truth about my condition, it would be possible. Now I realise it was unfair to you. You had a right to know, and I should've been the one who told you.' Her voice softened, a pleading look in her eyes. 'Could you forgive me?'

Connor hesitated a moment. Spike didn't blame him: it was a lot to take all in stride, especially for a kid his age.

But there was something heart-breaking in the way Darla, who was usually so implacable and formidable, had been reduced to desperatly begging for forgiveness to the person she loved the most, something that would have been able to melt the coldest heart. Spike saw that Connor tried to resist the charm, though: after all, he had a right to be angry. However, he could also see that the boy's resolve was wavering. Connor cast an inquiring glance at Severus, then back at his mother, he shot a look at Spike, changed his weight from one foot to the other, and finally surrendered.

'I guess I could,' he said quietly. 'But I'm not going to forget it easily.'

Darla's smile, though sad, managed to illuminated her features.

'I wouldn't have expected you to.'

A long pause followed, during which nobody dared to move, all afraid of breaking the enchantment. Finally Connor, who was twisting his hands nervously, looked up at his mother.

'I know it's the period of holidays I spend with you,' he whispered, 'but could I go with Severus? Just for today.'

Darla took the blow with dignity.

'Sure, dear. As you wish.'

From her contrite tone of voice, Spike had the suspicion that Pigeon would get away with anything he wanted during the following days. Sly brat...

Snape cleared his throat.

'I could deliver him back to your place about seven, if it doesn't inconvenience you.'

'Of course not. Seven's just fine,' she replied, somehow managing to sound nonchalant. Snape nodded, and Spike was sure the man saw, as well as he did, the sacrifice this meant for Darla. He turned to his protégé. 'Connor, why don't you to wash your face?'

Connor suddenly seemed to become aware of his looks. 'Hmm, shouldn't I change my clothes or...?'

'It will not be necessary, as we will perform Side-Apparition.'

These words must have made some sense to Connor, who nodded and turned to the bathroom once more. As soon as they heard the bathroom's door closing, Snape took a couple of steps towards Darla.

'I think it will be better if we don't tell him all the truth at once. He has got anough to deal with right now, doesn't he?' Darla nodded, pensive. Snape looked at her a moment, then he shook his head. 'Darla, give him some time. It's been too much for one day.'

After Snape and Connor had left, Spike noted that she was doing her best to pull herself together. Her cool mask could have deceived anyone but Spike, who hesitated a moment._ What the hell._

He walked towards her and circled his arms around her. At first she stiffened, startled, then she relaxed and let her head reast on his chest.

'It'll be OK, luv. It'll all be OK.'

-

Snape took Connor to Darla's at the very same time she received an urgent call from the Slayer's School. She didn't know what to do: Severus had to work that night, as school term was around the corner, and Sirius and Harry had gone out to celebrate that he had gotten the job, so there was no one to take care of Connor. As she was trying to decide what to do, Connor's voice pulled her out of her reverie:

'Mum, could I come with you?'

Darla usually avoided taking her son with her when she went to the School but this time she decided to make an exception. She suspected that for a couple of days she'd be unable to deny her child anything he asked.

During the walk to the School, they talked about what Connor had seen and done that day. Although she was glad that her son was talking to her again, she couldn't help noticing that there was certan awkwardness between them. _Well, you couldn't expect that it would all go to normal at once, could you?_

As she went to take care of the newest crisis – which consisted of a clan of vampire that was keen on some sort of mystical stereoids and had given the girls more than a headache – Giles agreed to look after Connor. The man had winked her an eye as she left, which had made her feel inmensely relieved. She'd told Giles by phone what had happened, and he had promised he would talk to Connor.

After she had solved the crisis, she took the chance to talk to Giles while Connor examined a dusty book. The man's advice was simple.

'He won't accept everything in just one day, so don't push him – but don't go too easy on him either. Treat him like you usually do, so you don't take away from him all sense of normality. And try to be as honest as you can with him from now on.'

On the way back home, they were silent for most of the time. However, after quite some minutes had passed by without a word being exchanged between us, Connor abruptly asked:

'How were you turned into a vampire?'

Darla stopped on her tracks. She knew this question was coming and yet it had startled her. Bearing in mind both Severus' and Giles' words, she tried to be as honest as she could without giving too much away.

'I was very sick, see, and a man who said to be a priest came to visit me, supposedly to pray for my recovery. He turned out to be a vampire, though, and he took the chance to turn me.'

'And what happened to him?' Connor inquired, the faintest trace of fear in his voice.

'Staked. By a Slayer.'

'The Original Slayer?'

Darla had to make a great effort to suppress her laughter when she heard from Connor's lips the hilarious term the Slayers-in-training used for Buffy, who had become some sort of legend, mixed with the glamour of a mysterious rock star.

'Yeah, that one. So you don't have to worry about that.'

Connor nodded, pensive. 'And what about Spike?'

'A girl turned him. In an alley, I think.'

'Where is she now? Was she dusted, too?'

Darla sighed, thinking of Drusilla. They hadn't heard anything from her since the night she had approached Connor in the Forbidden Forest, nearly three years ago.

'No idea. I'm afraid she's still at large... but don't worry: I won't let her get anywhere near you.'

Connor tried his best to look as if he wasn't worried at all, whereas Darla hoped she'd be able to keep her promise. Connor, though, hadn't run out of questions.

'That was why nobody gave you my custody when Dad died, wasn't it? Because you had been turned into a vampire.'

Sighing, Darla nodded. 'They were afraid I might hurt you... and I don't blame them. Even I was afraid.'

'And why did you and Spike get your souls? How did you do that, by magic?'

Darla closed her eyes for a second. That was a tough one. She ran a hand through her hair as she reflected on how to explain it to Connor. Finally she decided on making it as simple and plain as possible.

'We knew there was a spell that could make a vampire to recover its soul, as it had been used about a hundred years before our time, but it was complicated, too complicated. Spike heard about this... this sort of _god_, known as the wish-granter, that would, well, grant you anything you wished.'

'Really,' Connor cut in, his eyes alight with interest. 'Like Aladdin's Genie? He just... gave you anything you wanted?'

She snorted. 'Of course... after undergoing a good number of tests. And, trust me on this, they were no walk in the park, Connor. He made sure you wouldn't have a pleasant experience.'

As she remembered the fateful night she had faced the wish-granter, Darla had a hard time suppressing a shiver. It had been, by far, the scariest experience of her life after the night of Connor's birth, when she'd feared her child might never live.

Connor opened his mouth, and she was sure he would ask about the tasks. Some higher power must have liked her, though, because he seemed to reconsider it and closed his mouth again. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, each one of them immersed in their own thoughts while London's animated sounds surroundered them. After a moment, though, Connor seemed to have put up enough courage to ask:

'But if it was so ugly to do, why did you do it? I mean, you were evil, weren't you?'

Darla nodded sadly. 'We were.'

'Then why go and get a soul? Weren't you glad not to have a consciense,' he inquired, sounding utterly perplexed. Darla looked at him, surprised at his insight. In times like this, she was astounded at Connor's maturity. She was starting to fear that there was little left of the boy she'd loved, as he was growing up so fast.

'Well, it was sort of... complicated. And yet, it was very simple.' At Connor's puzzled look, she decided to be more specific. 'Look, vampires aren't supposed to love. However, Spike... well, he was always a freak, even for a vampire.' He let out a chuckle at this and even she smiled a little. 'The thing is, he had no better idea than falling in love with a girl... a human girl. The Slayer, to be more precise. The...' at this point, her lips curved a little, '_Original_ Slayer.'

Connor gaped. 'But... but... that's insane! It's... it's the _insanest_ thing I've ever heard in my life!''

'Pretty much what I said when I found out,' she said, amused at his outburst. 'Anyway, he was afraid he might hurt her... he wanted to be worthy of her affection. And he thought that the only way to manage that was going to get himself a soul so he did that.'

Connor looked astonished. 'And did she accept him?'

Darla chuckled. 'It took her an awfully long time but yeah, she did.'

This was a little too much for Connor, whose jaw had fallen open. After a moment, though, he recovered the speech.

'But, wasn't she a Slayer? Did she like irony or what? Besides, didn't she freak out knowing that her boyfriend was...?' His voice tailed off as his eyes widened in realisation. He shot a half-nervous, half-apologetic look at her. 'Er, I didn't mean like it was disgusting or anything, just...'

'It's okey, darling,' she reassured him, smiling warmly. 'I understand.'

He nodded, still looking quite uncomfortable. Suddenly his head jerked up, a frown on his forehead.

'Did... did Lindsey know?'

Startled, Darla stared at him. It was funny, but it had been quite some time since she'd last thought about Lindsey. For a fleeting moment, she wondered where he might be right now. Perhaps he had a new girlfriend. For some mysterious reason, that idea didn't bother her as much as she'd thought it would.

'Yes, he did know. And he didn't freak out.'

'Oh. Umm, good to hear that.'

'Yeah.'

Another awkward pause followed. Darla would have loved to know what was going on in her son's head, but she thought it would be unwise to push him.

When they reached her building at last, and Darla was about to go inside, she felt a soft grip on her wrist. She turned, surprised, and saw Connor looking up at her with an anxious expression on his face.

'What's the matter, dear?'

'Nothing. I just... I just wanted to know why _you_ got a soul.'

Darla realised this was what Connor had really wanted to know all along from the way his eyes shone, almost avidly, and the way he seemed to wait for her answer, holding his breath. For once, Darla reflected, her son had asked an amazingly simple question to answer.

'Because of you.'

He blinked. 'Me?'

'Yes. You. Y'know, Connor, when I was turned into a vampire I... couldn't have cared less for humans. Any humans. There was no nobility, no good feelings in me.' Her gaze got lost, far away from Connor, far away from present time, into a dark past time. After a moment, she put up enough courage to look back at her child. 'I did terrible things. Things I would not like you to know. I had no respect for others, I did not care at all what may happen to them. But you... you were different.'

She bent a little, so their eyes were at the same level. Connor was just frowning a little, as if he were trying to grasp what she was trying to say but not quite managing it.

'You were the very best thing that had ever happened to me, and being soulless would not take that away from me. But I was so scared, Connor, so afraid of hurting you... I chose to leave you with your father, knowing that he would take care of you. I went as far as I could go... until I received news of your dad's death. I returned at once but, obviously, nobody would let me see you.'

'Because you were a vampire,' Connor muttered. She nodded.

'That's right. But I had to see you, I had to be sure you were alright... Then I heard that Spike's gotten his soul back... and decided that I had to do the same if I wanted to be with you.'

'In spite of how hideous those tests were?'

Darla looked at her boy, whose lip was trembling slightly and his eyes were wide and apprehensive. She gave him her warmest smile.

'I would have gone to Hell itself to see you again, my darling. And I would do that again.'

Connor looked down, perhaps unable to hold her gaze. He was bitting his lower lip, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Darla watched him anxiously. Whatever happened next would be crucial to define the rest of their relationship. And she really didn't want to lose her son due to a stupid mistake, she could not, she would not lose him again...

She did the only thing she could.

She waited.

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Connor looked up, and to her utter surprise, he was trying to smirk.

'Well, I guess it's not so bad. I mean, you can't step out in the sun, that's gotta be a pain in the... well, you know. And you have to drink pig's blood, which is just gross.' At this point, his smirk faltered a little, but soon his eyes recovered their twinking. 'But you have like superpowers, don't you? I mean,' he grinned, 'I got a Super Mum. How cool is that?'

Darla watched in awe Connor's attempts to sound light-hearted and saw the incredible effort he was making to accept the truth of her condition. To accept _her_. Nobody, in four centuries, had done such an effort for her. Darla knew how hard this had to be for Connor and loved him all the more for it. As emotion swelled inside her, she realised one more thing: her baby boy was turning into a young man in front of her very eyes. Soon he would no longer be a child: he would turn into a man, and she would no longer be able to tuck him in, to streak his soft hair, to hold him tightly...

But tonight Connor was still her sweet, darling child who was trying his best to understand and accept her, tonight he was still the baby boy she'd held so fearfully hours after his birth under Angel's watchful gaze. Tonight, he still belonged to her.

Knowing that later he would protest, saying that he was no longer a baby and regretting having made such an unmanly gesture, she ignored it all and took him in her arms, holding him tight. At first, he stiffened, but then she felt his thin arms wrapping around her waist as he sunk his face on her shoulder. Smiling, she felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks and saw them fell on Connor's soft hair, but she couldn't have cared less: she had just recovered her greatest treasure.

And she would not let anyone take him away from her.


	27. Epilogue

**Beta-Reading: Joycelyn Solo.

* * *

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**Epilogue:**

The first of September, for some reason unknown to most people, quite an inconvenient day to take a train at King's Cross Station. Being one of the most important stations in England, it was usually crowded and one had to make his way through the multitude by elbowing and stepping on other people's feet and it could get a little chaotic at times… but on September 1, it was a completely different story.

First of all, there were unusually large groups on those mornings, especially around 11 AM. And what groups! Sometimes, there were entire families, and other times great gatherings of children, all carrying enormous trunks and odd packages. Some of them, even more strangely, also carried cages with cats, toads and what seemed to be owls, although the reason any child would want an owl as a pet was a mystery. Which was even weirder was that everyone seemed to know each other. Many of the large parties of people squeaked and ran to hug each other, others simply greeted each other or shook hands. It was very, very odd.

On the morning of September 1, year 1991, a tall man walked across the sation, heading towards the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Pushing a trolley with a heavy trunk each, two children followed suit. To an onlooker, it might have looked like a young father with his children… except that there wasn't much resemblance among them. The man and the youngest child, who also carried a cage with an owl, shared jet-black hair, but the boy's was messy whereas the adult's was sleek and had an air of elegance impossible to imitate. On the other hand, the taller boy, with his light brown hair and his fair skin, couldn't have looked less like to the other two.

The group came to a halt a couple of metres away from the barrier. The man turned to the youngest boy.

'Now, Harry, going through the barrier is quite easy,' he said, in a low voice so nobody close would hear them. 'You just have to walk towards it without stopping, until you find yourself on the other side. Don't be afraid, it doesn't hurt.'

'I'm not scared,' Harry said, although he didn't sound that confident. Sensing this, the man added:

'Look, you can run if you're nervous… close your eyes if it makes it easier for you…'

'C'mon, Sirius, Harry's not a baby,' the other boy interjected. 'He'll do it just fine.'

Sirius didn't look one hundred percent reassured.

'Why don't you go first, Connor, so Harry can see how to do it?'

Connor shrugged. 'Sure.' He turned to Harry. 'See ya in a few.'

He walked towards the barrier, glanced at both sides to check that nobody was looking, and confidently walked on through the deceivingly solid-looking barrier, and disappeared. Harry blinked, surprised. Sirius smiled at him.

'See? It wasn't that bad. C'mon, let's go together.'

The look of wonder on Harry's face when he saw Platform Nine Three-Quarters for the very first time was almost comical. Sirius could barely remember what it had felt like, seeing it for the first time. To him, it had represented freedom. Finally he would get away from his asphixyating house, that could not be called a home, and his dreadful family. He guessed – and hoped – that Harry felt different. Besides, he had to consider that his godson still saw magic with the eyes of an awed Muggle-born, given his education. Sirius hoped he would keep that sense of naïve wonder for a long while, but childhood slipped so fast…

Take Connor Angel, for instance. When Sirius had first meet him, about a month ago, the boy had been a smart-mouth brat. However, he'd turned out to be a good friend for Harry, without showing signs that his friendship was influenced by the younger boy's fame. Sirius hoped that everyone could be like that, but he seriously doubted it. Unfortunately, Harry would find many people interested only in the reflected glory that light-bolt shaped scar on his forehead could give them… not to mention those who considered that scar an insult to their old master. Sirius sighed. He could no longer protect Harry and the sooner he got used to the idea, the better.

Harry himself didn't look too worried: he was too busy chatting with Connor to share his godfather's fears. Sirius smiled, and once more his mind drifted away.

Harry had grown up a lot during the summer. Not physically – he would probably be scrawny for a while before growing up fully, just like James – but he had gone through a lot. He had nearly got kidnapped by Rookwood's wife, found out the truth about his parents' death, been told he was a wizard… and, of course, Sirius shouldn't forget the quite eventful time spent at Darla's.

Sirius still remembered quite vividly the last crisis they had faced there, when Darla's secret had been revealed. Harry, to whom everything magic-related was still a novelty, accepted what Sirius told him at once. He didn't look too worried by the knowledge that Darla, the woman who had treated him like a son for the past weeks, was a blood-sucking vampire. Sirius guessed that his Muggle upbringing had a lot to do with that.

Connor, one the other hand, had a much harder time coming to terms with it. However, Sirius reckoned the boy had taken the blow rather admiringly for such a young boy. Sure, it would probably take him some time to get used to the idea, but in the last days Sirius and Harry had spent at Darla's the boy was behaving almost normally already. It was a wonder how such an open-minded, friendly boy could have been raised by Severus Snape. It was quite a mystery, as Connor couldn't have been more different from his tutor, trusting and kind as he was. Now that he came to think of it, the very same day he had found out the truth about his mother, Connor had been selfless enough to push aside his own problems for a moment and ask Sirius how his job interview had gone.

Speaking of which…

'Sirius, shouldn't you get going,' Harry inquired, a hint of worry in his voice. 'You can't be late on your first day!'

Sirius smiled at his concern and ruffled his hair fondly… when he looked at his watch, though, he cursed.

'Damnit! I thought I had more time…' Sirius bit his lower lip. 'I wanted to help you get a compartment and all…'

'Don't worry, Elvis,' Connor intervened, using the same nickname Spike had come up with for Sirius. 'I can lend him a hand.'

'Thanks, Connor.'

The boy shrugged. 'You brought me here, it's the least I can do.'

Sirius smiled but he still felt uncertain. He didn't want to abandon Harry like that, not on his first day. However, he really had to go. Harry smiled.

'Sirius, I'll be okey. Just go.'

Before doing so, though, Sirius felt compelled to give Harry a lengthy list of indications, which the boy listened to politely whereas Connor sniggered. Sirius ignored him and gave his godson one last hug.

'Have fun, and write at once if there's anything wrong, OK?'

Harry nodded and turned to find a compartment, escorted by Connor. He looked over his shoulder once more and smiled.

'See you, Sirius!'

Sirius waved a hand in his direction… and felt more lonely he'd felt in seven years.

---

'Oi! Connor!'

Both boys turned and saw a square-shouldered boy, who wore a black T-shirt with a picture of C3PO on it, running towards them. Connor beamed.

'Hi, Matthew! How was your summer?'

The boy shrugged.

'It was… good, I guess. You know my family, they aren't exactly cheerful… but it was OK. Glad to be back, though.'

Matthew's dark gaze fell on Harry and Connor made the proper introductions.

'Matthew, this is Harry. I met him during the summer, he's starting at Hogwarts. Harry, this is Matthew, he is with me in Gryffindor.'

Harry shook Matthew's hand. Then, the two older boys began to chat, until Matthew slapped his forehead.

'I'm an idiot! I forgot to tell you I had saved you a seat…'

'Great!'

'…but I' afraid that in our compartment there's only room for one more,' Matthew said. 'I'm sorry,' he added, looking like he really meant it. Harry shrugged.

'It's okey, I can find a compartment on my own…'

Connor hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

'No, wait. Matthew, you watch my trunk for a moment, I'll help Harry find a compartment. Then,' he added in Harry's direction, 'once I've put my trunk in my compartment, I'll come back to check on you. OK?'

Both boys nodded and Matthew was left alone with Connor's luggage as they went to look for an empty compartment. They had to walk towards the very end of the train, as all the other compartments were taken. Finally, they reached the last one, which was fortunately empty.

Getting Harry's trunk aboard, though, proved to be quite tricky. They had already let it fall twice and were covered in sweat when two familiar red heads poped up.

'Want a hand?'

Much to the boys' delight, the Weasley twins had come to their rescue. With their help, they had no problem tucking Harry's trunk in a corner. Harry thanked them, as he pushed a strand of hair away from his sweaty forehead. The twins' eyes widened.

'What's that?'

By the corner of his eye, Harry saw Connor stiffening.

'You know what it is.'

The older boys turned to stare at Connor.

'You mean, he really is…? _Him?_'

'_Blimey_. You are, aren't you?'

Now Harry was utterly confused.

'What?'

'Harry Potter,' chorused the twins.

'Oh, him,' said Harry. 'I mean, yes, I am.'

One of the boys shot a quizzical look at Connor.

'Why didn't you tell us?'

Before Connor could answer, a voice came through the open door:

'Fred? George? Are you there?'

'Coming, Mum.'

After the twins' had left (and they had conveyed the funny conversation they had with their mother and siblings), Connor turned to Harry.

'Don't mind that, Harry. A lot of people are going to be curious because of… well, you know.'

Harry nodded.

'Yeah, Sirius warned me. So… see you later, I guess.'

'Oh! Sure,' Connor replied, 'I'll be back in no time, and later you can come to my compartment, the boys won't mind.'

Harry supposed that, if they were all as curious as Fred and George Weasley, they wouldn't. However, he said none of that to Connor, who hurried to hop off the train.

Harry took seat by the window, feeling very lonely all of a sudden. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being on his own, but he didn't welcome back the old feeling. However, now all was different, wasn't it? Now he was with children that were just like him… things had to be easier this time…

He was dwelling in those thoughts when the door slid open and the youngest redheaded boy, whom Harry and Connor had seen through the window a few minutes before, came in.

'Anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full.'

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down.

And then, the journey to the unknown began…

But, at least, Harry was no longer alone.

* * *

**So, this is it. The End. Or maybe not. Originally I planned to write a sequel, but as this March I start university I'm not sure whether I'll be able to do so.**

**If I do write a sequel as I intend to, you can check my profile to find it or, if you don't have an account at you can leave me your e-mail and I'll let you know.**

**Till then, I say goodbye... and many, many thanks to all that have read and/or reviewed this fic.**

**See you!**


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